


Fireheart

by tatterwitch



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Big Bang Challenge, Dragon Riders, Galra Keith (Voltron), Sheith Big Bang 2017, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 12:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12132624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatterwitch/pseuds/tatterwitch
Summary: When Keith discovers a dragon ensnared in a trap during a hunt, his world is shaken again.This is just the thing he’s been waiting for; a way out of the village of Garrison and over the formidable range of mountains known as the Imbrium.Then, one night, Keith’s entire life is turned upside-down once more when a dragon crashes into a field on the outskirts of Garrison. Its rider is limp, unconscious, and beneath dirt, blood, and scars…familiar.With three apprentices, two mysterious Councilors, and Shiro at his side, Keith finds himself embracing a legacy he never knew he had to save Garrison and free those trapped under Galran rule.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Where do I start?  
> After only a few months in the Voltron Fandom, my friend [stargazershiro](http://stargazershiro.tumblr.com/) introduced me to Sheith and I was hooked. She was the one who encouraged me to write for the pairing even when I wasn't sure I could or even should. Amy, you have been a constant light no matter what I may be going through. You make my stars shine a little brighter.  
> My beta and one of my best friends, [kristsune](https://kristsune.tumblr.com/) was my constant companion and cheerleader throughout this endeavor. Kris, no matter how much I procrastinated or how discouraged I became, you were there with unkillable positivity and endless motivation. I will never be able to thank you for all that you do for me and my writing.  
> My lovely, patient artists, [seitoushi](https://seitoushi.tumblr.com/) and [freddy-draws-and-scribbles](https://freddy-draws-and-scribbles.tumblr.com) created some [amazing](https://seitoushi.tumblr.com/post/165504702306/my-contributions-to-the-sheithbigbang-for) [art](https://freddy-draws-and-scribbles.tumblr.com/post/165523004206/my-piece-for-the-sheithbigbang-for) of some beautiful scenes and I could not have been blessed with anything more beautiful than them or their art.
> 
> This fic has been a huge project for me. Never before have I tried to write something of this caliber. I like writing small things. It's easier for my mind and I never thought I'd do anything like this. During the course of writing this, many things in my life got twisted and turned and shaken all around. But this was one constant thing that helped me escape. I wasn't able to capture all that I had hoped to and it may not be as perfect as I dreamed it would be but I am proud of myself for accomplishing something I never thought I could. 
> 
> So I hope that you enjoy _Fireheart_ and its ride.

Clouds hung thick and dark in the sky. They stretched as far as the eye could see, churning and rolling with the promise of rain. The sea wind carried a chill that nipped at any exposed skin.

Keith tugged at the leather straps of the saddle-bags, numb fingers fumbling a bit on the clasps. The horse nickered softly at a low rumble of thunder out over the waves. It pawed at the ground, clods of dirt kicking up. Keith shushed it, hand smoothing down its neck. 

The sound of boots on loose earth and stone had Keith’s insides knotting. His fingers twisted in the horse’s mane, knuckles whitening as he kept his gaze on the horizon. 

“It’s time.” Shiro’s voice was low, barely carrying. 

Keith nodded, hands falling away and twisting into fists that fell to his sides numbly. He clenched his jaw against the hot burn that crawled up his throat and threatened to betray him. The wind whipped his hair into his eyes as he watched the others say their good-bye’s. 

Katie cried into her brother’s shoulder, tears running down into a shaky smile as she made him promise to sketch any dragons that he might see. Matt tugged her braid before climbing up into his saddle. Commander Holt bent and spoke so quietly to his daughter that not a word carried. Whatever he said made Katie nod emphatically and scrub at her face with the backs of her hands.

“It’s just a scouting mission. We’ll be back before the end of the harvest season.”

Keith jerked his head in a semblance of a nod. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Agreeing to see the mission off had been a mistake. 

“Keith,” Shiro murmured. “Please look at me.”

The knot inside Keith’s gut tightened as he finally let himself look. 

The hood of Shiro’s cloak had fallen away long ago, cast back by the gusts of the incoming storm. Those dark eyes glinted, even in the grey light. 

Shiro reached out, pushing Keith’s hair out of his eyes with a soft smile. “It’s getting long again.”

“You can cut it when you get back.” The words stuck in Keith’s throat like burrs, catching and making his eyes burn.

“Of course.”

“Shirogane!” Commander Holt called. “Let us leave before the storm reaches the shore.”

Shiro answered an affirmative before stepping forward and pulling Keith against his chest. 

Keith stumbled a bit, feet sliding on loose earth. His fingers curled into thick, woolen fabric. Shiro’s cheek slid smooth against his own. Warm breath hitched in his ear.

“The end of the harvest season. We’ll be back. I promise.”

The burrs dug deep in Keith’s throat, stopping up a response. Not that he had one, in any case.

Shiro stepped back, hands falling away before making for his horse. Leather creaked, metal bit chiming as the horse tossed its head. Thunder rumbled, markedly closer. 

At Commander Holt’s order, the party moved out. Loose earth and stone kicked up in the wake of the horses’ hooves. The dark grey of their cloaks quickly faded among the shadows of the forest. Empty branches and prickly boughs swayed in the wind. The sky flickered as lightning arced across it. Thunder cracked, ground shivering beneath Keith’s feet as he followed the others back into the village. 

 

The winter storms gentled.

Snow and ice melted away, seeping into the hard ground. The earth became a slippery, dark thing. It clung to the spokes of wagon wheels and sucked at the soles of shoes greedily. 

Green spread across the ground steadily. Slender stalks of newborn grass shivered in the breeze off the sea. The goats took to it with glee, scattering over the cliffs and empty fields in search of the buds of sweet flowers. 

The port opened once more, sea-ice retreating with creaks and groans before disappearing under the steady gaze of the spring sun. On rare days, a ship would dock. Traders would barter through shouts. Barrels were rolled up and down the gangplanks. Livestock was lead aboard as captains and crew, alike, bent their heads with the chieftains. 

Keith threw himself into his training. 

In the cool of the mornings, he joined the other apprentices in the fields. Stacks of moldering hay became naught more than cushions for flights of arrows. Afternoons were spent over shared scraps of crackling parchments and slivers of slate. Dusk arrived with sore fingertips, strained eyes, restless limbs. 

On the roof of the communal lodge, Keith studied the sky at night. Bits of loose thatch and debris poked and scratched at his hands as he stared at the stars. Shiro’s voice echoed through his mind as he mapped the constellations. 

“ _I_ _ t doesn’t matter where we are. The stars are always the same. They’re always there. They always will be _ .”

Overhead, the tiny points of light glittered like flecks of crystal. Keith scrubbed his hands over his face roughly and breathed out harshly. The cold night air nipped at his cheeks and fingertips as he craned his head back. 

_ Wherever you are, Shiro _ , he thought to himself,  _ I hope you’re all right. _

  
  


Spring unfurled into summer.

The fields erupted into a new sea; this one tall with emerald waves rustling in the wind. Livestock roamed the open fields and cliffs freely in the sunlight. 

The port grew stagnant. The last trading ship that docked had carried barely more than sickly cattle and a skeleton-crew. They carried word of the Galran empire; tales of rebel cities smashed to rubble and entire villages burned to naught more than blackened husks and ash. They hissed in whispers of Galran spies and left in the night, sails threadbare and holds empty.

Keith watched the ship disappear over the horizon from the rooftop. 

The ocean glittered, water catching the bright moonlight in flickering waves. There were no clouds to obscure the stars. Nothing hid the glimmer of far-off constellations as Keith laid back on the thatch of the roof.

The boldly shining point of the Archer’s Bow gleamed far to the south. Keith followed the arrow’s path with his eyes. Beyond the village stretched, what seemed like, endless miles of forest that climbed up the slopes of the Imbrium. The mountains towered over the valley, clouds swirling at the highest peaks like smoke ‘round a dragon’s head. Keith canted his head back, staring up as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Shiro was out there... _ somewhere _ . 

 

Harvest season passed.

The fields were emptied. Dark brown earth was pushed into neat rows for the spring planting. Thatch was reinforced and chinking was repaired. Boats and rafts were hauled ashore and tethered. Livestock was herded indoors.

The forest caught fire; reds and golds spreading across the land and climbing the sides of the Imbrium. Frost crawled over the ground in the cool of the evening and the early morning. 

Keith pushed himself in his training and ignored the murmurs of the villagers.

They whispered of wild dragons, of Galran soldiers crawling in the forests, of cave-bears and packs of wolves. Mutterings of rockslides, of mountain blizzards, and grievous accidents ran rampant. Rumors slithered through the village, words sharp-edged scales that sliced at Keith’s skin.

The last of the leaves fell. Tangled black limbs shivered in the cold ocean wind. Clouds rolled thick and dark on the horizon. Grey sand was tamped down under the boots of the village and furrowed from the passage of rolling timber. Black sails of three unmanned crafts billowed as they slipped over the white-caps.

Dry sea grass rustled against Keith’s legs as he watched from the cliffs. Frost lined the tops of the loose stone at his feet. He ignored the cold that pricked at his fingers when he pushed his hair back. 

Fire soared through the air, arcing over the waves. The flames caught quickly, spreading over fuel-soaked wood in bright orange tongues. Plumes of smoke drifted upward. 

The sky slowly darkened; the violet line smeared across the horizon faded into a blurry, blue-black thing. Loose stone scattered down the hills under the villagers’ feet as they returned home. Charred masts crumpled and toppled into the waves. 

Keith tore his gaze from the emptiness of the sea and tipped his head back. His throat and eyes burned as he searched the sky. 

There were no stars tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

Light hung in hazy streams beneath the trees.

Tiny insects flittered through the beams in hypnotic arcs and whorls. The hum of their wings was barely audible over the constant melody of birdsong that echoed between the trees. Leaves trembled in the wake of feathery wings. Moldering plantlife shifted seemingly on its own as smaller creatures scurried about on the forest floor.

Keith twisted a peg of wood into the earth and secured the last snare with a quiet exhalation of relief. He straightened, carefully nudging some loose bracken away with his boot. The last thing he wanted was to catch old tree limbs instead of rabbits. 

He stooped once more, retrieving his bag of game. The leather was stained dark from use and wear. It settled over his shoulder, thudding against his back with every step. 

A deer lowed closeby. The husky cry was answered, noise bouncing through the foliage easily. Keith held himself in check as he crouched again, intent on listening. A herd hadn’t been through since the last storm passed over the Imbrium. 

The calls sounded closer, closer. 

Tawny-brown shapes meandered under the low-hanging branches. Wide racks of antlers raked over bark and caught at loose leaves. Large, liquid-dark eyes turned Keith’s way.

His heart stuttered and he breathed out slowly. 

The buck’s ears flickered before it turned away and pattered on. Leaf-litter crunched quietly in the herd’s wake. Their gentle calls faded into the other noises of the forest.

Keith straightened once more, slinging the bag over his shoulder. The leather was over-warm, even through his clothing. 

The trees thinned the closer he came to the village. 

Bracken and tangled branches gave way to swaying fields of pale gold. Thin paths of trodden-down grass twisted and turned over the hills. The dull clanking of cattle-bells carried over the fading birdsong of the forest. 

Sweat made the back of Keith’s neck itch, the collar of his shirt sticking to his skin unpleasantly. He squinted against the sun’s brightness. The breeze off of the sea ruffled his hair, blowing damp strands into his eyes. He shook them away and readjusted the pack with a quiet huff.

Gold melted into neat rows of deep brown and green. The cattle-path Keith followed merged with the village road. Loose stone scattered beneath his boots. 

Wagons waited at the edges of the fields. Farmers leaned against the sides as they sat in the meager shade the wagons offered. The quiet rumble of their conversation halted as Keith walked past, only to hiss to life again when they thought he was out of earshot.

“Beyond me why Iverson didn’t exile him.”

“Could be a Galra spy for all we know, now.”

“He couldn’t cut it as an apprentice. Doubt he could cut it as a spy.”

“He was the best in his class, Mortemer. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Keith gritted his teeth, knuckles aching as he hauled the game-bag higher on his shoulder. The farmers’ conversation quickly faded. 

A few goats meandered the rocky outcroppings near the cliff’s-edge. Their bleating calls were echoed by the lowing of the cattle on the hills.

Blankets and rugs littered the roofs of the lodges, edges fluttering in the ocean breeze. Fist-sized rocks weighted the damp material down as it dried in the sun’s rays. Smoke curled from chimneys, vanishing quickly into the blue sky. 

Young apprentices lazed in the shade of the school. Their small, round faces lit with smiles as they shared bits of sweet-rolls and salted meat during the noon break. 

The older apprentices were camped on the hill, boisterous voices carrying over the fields. The chaff-stuffed targets looked more and more like lopsided pincushions each time Keith passed. Some arrows had migrated their way so deep, only the fletching could be seen. 

Loose stone crunched beneath Keith’s boots as he carried on. He passed by the smithy, nose wrinkling at the thick, acrid scent of smoke. A broad-shouldered shadow of a man loomed over the fire. Another smaller, slighter figure darted behind him, copper hair recognizable even in the sooty darkness of the smithy.

Keith ducked his head and quickened his pace. He didn’t want to listen to the whispers Katie had no-doubt been collecting from traders. He’d heard more than enough.  

A pair of horses pawed at the street as their keeper examined the broken spokes of his wagon’s wheel. A small sheep herd passed by. The horses tossed their heads as a young girl followed after them, keeping the sheep in-line. Her voice pierced the air like a bone-whistle. 

Stone rattled loudly behind him, the cacophonic noise the only warning he had before a handful of farmers passed by with hand-carts. He was jostled roughly by one. The game-bag slid before Keith hiked his shoulder. He ignored the half-snarled insult thrown over the man’s back and made for the butchery.

Racks of smoked and salted meats stood outside the door. Curing curls of sausage wound over long rods stained dark from use. Within the shadows of the butchery, a few patrons argued over a large slab of beef. 

Keith waited just inside the door as voices rose. Metal winked in the dim light before arcing down. The bickering patrons startled. Watching them, Keith was reminded of the fish tangled in nets at the docks. Their eyes and mouths flapped wide as they choked on nothing but air. 

Mitch, the butcher, pushed the halved meat at the patrons before retrieving his cleaver from the counter. 

“Hedrick, you can bring me half of that bolt of wool. Breeck, you give me two planks. No rot on them, or you’ll never barter here again. Agreed?”

The two men took their respective offers and gathered up their goods. They were gone within the next breath, scurrying out the door as Mitch returned his cleaver to its post.

“Well?” Mitch braced his palms on the counter and jerked his chin at Keith. “What have you got for me today, boy?”

Keith loosened the strings on the game-bag and let its contents slide free. Mitch studied the rabbits and game-hen for a moment.

“I’ll give you six Groggeries.”

Keith folded his arms over his chest, “No coin. I want a spool of leather cordage.”

“Half a spool. These rabbits are gangly.”

Heat prickled along Keith’s skin. “One spool. Or I take the game elsewhere.”

Mitch shook his head with a wan sort of smile. “No one else would take the game, boy. You’re bluffing. Tell you what. Let me keep the hides. A spool and a half of cordage.”

“Fine.” Keith took the offered cordage with a suppressed growl.

There’d be other furs, he knew, but he’d had plans for those particular ones. It’d have to wait until the next morning. That reminded him…

“Mitch.”

The butcher looked up from the rabbits with a quirked brow. “You have nothing left to barter, boy. Best be going. You keep the other customers away and the day is still long. Put you in my poor favor if you hang around any longer than your barter demands.”

“What would a deer bring?”

Mitch’s head pulled up quickly, almost as if it was on strings and his puppeteer had grown overzealous. “No deer have passed over the Imbrium since the storms.”

Keith waited silently. When it was clear he wasn’t going to divulge any more, Mitch sighed and returned to his work.

“After so long without? I’d wager nearly anything. One would feed a family for quarter of the winter. Nothing to thumb your nose at.”

Keith’s heart hammered in his chest. Sparks of something hot and alive flared behind his ribs. He tried to dampen the hope before it caught too much. 

“A horse,” he said. “Would a deer get me a horse?”

Mitch’s laugh was a rusty thing that threatened the new glow in Keith’s chest. 

“I said ‘nearly anything’. But. Two deer. I’d give a horse for that.”

“Is that your word?” Keith settled the game-bag over his back.

Mitch’s shoulders lifted before he nodded. Amusement laced his words when he spoke. 

“It’s my word. You bring me two deer and I’ll give you a horse.”

“I’m going to hold you to it.” 


	3. Chapter 3

The eerie silence of the pre-dawn reigned when Keith awoke.

He dressed quickly and quietly, padding around the dusty floors of the lodge. The soft grey grime clung to the nooks and crannies in which spiders had once made their homes. Small strands of old webbing fluttered in a draft. The meager remains of a fire glowed dully in the mouth of what had once been a Great Hearth. 

Keith pulled hard on the laces of his boots, fingers deftly tying the knots before stuffing them inside. The game-bag settled over his shoulder alongside a small quiver of arrows. He took a moment to eat, smearing the last bit of soft cheese over the crust of a bread loaf. 

The door of the lodge settled with a soft noise behind him. The latch slid down and settled into its home with a groan. 

Keith followed the thin, serpentine paths of the deer herd in the darkness. An owl swooped overhead, returning to its perch for the day. The other birds were quiet, still sleeping in their nests. There were the soft rustlings of small creatures in the undergrowth. The cry of a mouse caught by something, maybe a snake or wildcat, was silenced as quickly as it sounded. 

Dawn arrived slowly, rays tenaciously peeking through the foliage. In the pale, early light, Keith caught up with the deer herd.

Graceful brown bodies waded through bracken to pluck berries from vines. The liquid darkness of their eyes shone black in the soft gold light. 

Keith knelt on the hillock, reaching behind himself for an arrow. The fletches whispered against his fingertips as he nocked the shaft. Slowly, carefully, he drew back and took aim. He took a deep breath and, on the exhale, let the arrow fly.

It found its mark. Red bloomed. The deer herd scattered. 

Keith allowed himself a small moment of elation, body bending until his head rested against the tamped-down grass. He stood after a few breaths and went after his quarry. 

There was nothing for a few yards, just the cracked and broken bracken the deer had left in their wake. Then, it was a few flecks of blood, bubbly and almost pink. It wasn’t long before Keith happened upon his prey. The deer had collapsed only yards on. Keith’s arrow protruded from its side, coated in the frothy blood. 

He crouched, fingers catching on the shaft of the arrow. It came free easily enough with a quick yank. 

It was in the midst of Keith’s inspection of the deer that he first heard it; the dull rattle of metal against metal.

He stilled, knuckles whitening around the hilt of his knife. Birds had already begun to stir in the early dawn. Their calls and cries bounced between the branches. Imaginings of Galran scouts clanking through the underbrush had cold shivers skating down Keith’s spine. 

The noise came again, this time accompanied by a low, thin growl of some kind. Maybe it was a wildcat that had gotten caught in one of the village’s dragon snares.

Keith pushed his bow into the empty space in his quiver and readjusted the grip on his knife as he crept forward. Undergrowth parted beneath his hands with the barest amount of whispering. Cautiously, he peered through the layer of leaves and twigs.

Murky red scales shifted in a clearing of snapped branches and torn-up roots. Flashes of silvery metal slick with hot red glinted against shivering, membraned wings. 

Keith felt his breathing hitch.  _ A dragon _ . 

The branch beneath his hand swung loose, snapping loud and sharp in the quiet. 

The creature’s head whipped around, lips peeling away from teeth that had to be longer than a grown man’s fingers. Its nostrils quivered. The thin growl deepened into a threatening, low-pitched snarl. Claws like hooked daggers sliced into the leaf litter. One wing, unburdened by the razored wire, flared wide. Eyes the color of polished andesine pinned Keith in place.

Flecks of blood spattered against the ground and leaves, hissing like water against hot stones. The creature’s angry growl cut off with a pained whine. It’s head craned back in an attempt to pull the sharpened barbs free.

Keith stepped back, mind spinning. 

A  _ dragon _ . It seemed impossible. Wild dragons hadn’t crossed the Imbrium in years. Word carried by traders and those seeking refuge said that the last of the dragons had been captured by the Galra. And yet…

Branches shook, causing loose leaves to flutter to the forest floor. The creature’s pained whine gained an edge that sounded almost...frustrated. Those wires had the potential to cause irreparable damage. That was if the dragon freed itself. If the wires had cut deep enough already…

Keith stepped forward, cautiously breaching the edge of the trees. The leather wrapping that covered the hilt of his knife was damp beneath his fingertips. 

Large andesine eyes narrowed as he approached. The creature’s head turned, nostrils flaring. Bits of leaf litter and fallen debris rustled and crackled under paws the size of a man’s head. 

Keith swallowed, throat clicking in the sudden quiet. He lifted his hands, one palm open and the other curled tightly around his knife. 

A broad head lowered, wide mouth opening to display rows of glistening teeth. 

“Listen. I don’t want any trouble. I don’t want to hurt you. Just to get you free, all right?” Even to his own ears, Keith’s voice trembled.

He stepped forward and forward again, heart hammering quick and hard in his chest. Loose twigs knocked down by the dragon’s thrashing caught on the tops of his boots. He kicked them away without sparing a glance away from the parted maw and sparking eyes that dared him to step closer. 

Keith reached out, fingers just grazing the silvered wire wrapped tight around one shivering wing. The sharpness of the finely barbed edges flashed. The thin gold light that filtered through the forest canopy suddenly bled into a hazy red hue. 

The dragon moved in a blur. Heavy scales smashed into Keith’s chest. His back met the ground with an audible crash that knocked the very breath from his lungs. Black spun over his eyes in spindly webs. 

Claws pricked through the thin material of his shirt, threatening to catch on skin. Hot breath fanned his face and ruffled his hair. 

Keith forced his eyes away from the rows of startlingly white, curved teeth and the huge paw that pressed down over his ribs. He reached up with his knife-hand, fingers tightening against the trembling in his arm. The blade made an odd noise against the dragon’s scales.

Teeth snapped in Keith’s face, hot flecks of saliva spattering over his cheek as his blade found its mark.


	4. Chapter 4

“Just-” Pain sparked as razored wire bit into Keith’s knuckles. 

Blood made the hilt of his knife spin in his hand. More slid it's way down his cheek and jaw, wetting the collar of his shirt. Sweat made the open wounds sting and burn. 

Red scales shivered over trembling muscle. Those long, hooked claws pawed at the earth; digging wide, deep furrows into the moss and leaf-litter. Teeth flashed behind a curled lip with its own fair share of shallow wounds from biting at the wire. 

The dragon huffed, an impatient and frustrated noise.

“Well, if you  _ held still _ .” Keith sawed through another furl of barbed silver. 

Smoke curled from the dragon’s nostrils. It shook its head toward him with a sound that was clearly derisive. 

More wire snapped free. It fell in loops lined with red around Keith’s feet. They crunched beneath his boots before he kicked them away. Only a few remained, the razored wire barely visible from how far it’d burrowed into vulnerable flesh and membrane. Simply cutting the strands wouldn’t due. He’d need to pull them free with his hands.

Metal grated against metal before snapping. 

Keith bent and wiped his blade clean on a patch of moss. It whispered against leather as he sheathed it. 

Those wide, bright eyes blinked suspiciously as Keith reached out. There was no way, no place for him to grip the wires and  _ not _ get cut. He steeled himself before gripping a piece.

The thin metal was hot to the touch and quickly bit into his fingertips. It pulled free fairly easily, slicked with blood as it was. 

A loud, pained yowl pierced the air. The dragon dug its claws into the earth and craned its neck to snarl at Keith.

“I’m almost done, I swear.” 

There was a half-muffled growl from the dragon. It turned forward again with another grumbling noise as its claws kneaded the ground. 

Keith studied the last strand, shakily wiping the sweat from his temples with the back of his arm. It would surely prove to be the most difficult to remove. The metal had sank deep into the delicate-looking scales that edged the dragon’s wings. It was almost impossible to see in some spots, covered at it was in a mixture of blood and flayed scales.

He gripped one sheared end tightly, ignoring the way his fingertips protested at the abuse. Tiny, razored barbs caught on the edges of ripped flesh. Beneath the armor-like scales of the dragon’s body, muscles clenched and tensed. Its head thrashed from side to side. Its tail whipped behind the both of them, smacking into what little branches and bracken it hadn’t already torn aside in its bid to get free.

The metal finally slid away.

Keith let it drop at his feet. He laughed, a breathless and disbelieving burst of air that rattled its way out of his chest. He bent, scrubbing his hands over the knees of his trousers. 

The blunt edge of a wing clipped his head as the dragon attempted to test its wings. Dust curled in the wake of the movement. Bits of leaf debris and forest flotsam were tossed about. 

After a moment, it became clear that flight was impossible.

The dragon snarled, seemingly to itself, and settled for licking its wounds.

Keith waited for its attention to return to him but it seemed that the creature was adamant in its ignoring him. 

He dug a shallow hole with the blade of his knife, tossing clods of dirt and moss around messily.

The dragon’s black-tipped tongue rasped over the gashes. One clawed paw hovered over the ground comically as it contorted to better reach the wounds.

Keith kicked the metal into the uneven depression and tamped the earth down tight with the heel of his boot. He eyed the edge of the clearing. 

The dragon, apparently satisfied with the cleanliness of its wounds, had curled up upon the ground. Its injured wing drooped at its side, awkwardly folded in a way that looked uncomfortable. 

Keith backed away, shouldering aside a stand of bracken that snatched at his hair. He hiked his way back to his kill, mind spinning through a thousand different thoughts all at once. 

He hoped the deer was still left well-enough alone. It had been foolish of him to simply abandon it like that. 

Would Mitch hold true to his word and procure him a horse? Would it be a good one? One hardy enough to weather the Imbrium? Or would Mitch require further bargaining?

The dew coating the greenery had long since dried under the climbing sun. Long beams of golden light filtered between shivering leaves.

A  _ dragon _ . 

Was it a Galran mount? There’d been nothing to suggest so; no saddle or armor and certainly no sign of a rider. Had it flown over the Imbrium? Perhaps it had followed the deer herd- 

Something wriggled in the pit of Keith’s belly, all at once cold and hot.

If a dragon could cross the Imbrium and stumble upon the forests around Garrison…

It could cross again, by flight or climb, it could make the passage again. 


	5. Chapter 5

Keith had left the entrails of the deer at the edge of the dragon’s clearing. He returned the next day after hunting, hardly daring to hope. 

It was all too real of a possibility that the creature had moved on sometime during the night. Keith had hardly believed his own memory when he awoke. But the cuts that latticed the skin of his hands and arms lent credence to it all.

He’d had no luck in the way of trailing the deer herd. They’d scattered at some sound in the distance before Keith had a chance to loose an arrow. Frustrated and damp from the early-morning rain, he’d made quick work of checking his traps and snares. The haul had been meager, offering little in the way to leave behind for the dragon. 

In the days that followed, Keith kept to the same routine.

The early mornings were spent deep in the forest. He followed after the trails left in the wake of the deer herd’s wandering. Traps and snares were checked and reset. What spare bits he was able to garner he left at the edge of the clearing. He made the trek into the village by noon and spent the evenings finalizing the preparations for his journey over the Imbrium.

Keith scrubbed the back of one arm over his forehead before dropping the last rabbit into the game-bag. 

The late summer sun beat down upon his back, hot light unburdened by the rustling canopy that didn’t reach the small clearing Keith had crouched in to clean his catch.

Sweat made his clothes stick unpleasantly. He stood, slinging the heavy bag over one shoulder and making for the dragon’s copse. Tall grass swished around his knees. Pale-winged bugs fluttered up in his path, seeking safer patches. 

It was much cooler beneath the whispering roof of the forest. The air was still, but easily more pleasant than the sun-filled field had been. 

The trek to the dragon’s clearing was fairly short. Keith took in the stained patch of moss and earth at the edge. The pile of spare rabbit and squirrel bits he’d left the day before had vanished. Only a few threads of matted fur and hair fluttered around the spot.

Cool leaves tickled against the backs of Keith’s fingers as he pushed aside a few branches. 

The dragon paused, tongue protruding from between its front fangs and one clawed foot behind its spines. One bright eye slitted open, fixing Keith with a scandalized look. 

Keith rolled his eyes and shrugged his bag off of his shoulder.

“Listen, I don’t care. I just came to bring you food.”

The dragon lowered its paw, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Keith avoided eye-contact as he dumped the large helping of entrails and fat out. 

After a tense moment, the dragon lowered its head and snapped up a bit of the offal. 

Keith wasted no time. His fingers hooked around the bony spines that crawled down the dragon’s back. He swung one leg up and over, heel digging against slippery scales in a bid for purchase. 

For one brief, hopeful breath, Keith clung to the dragon’s back. 

Then, the whole world spun in a dizzying whirl. Green, brown, black, and red swirled past his vision. His hands and feet slid over smooth scales before he crashed back amongst the bracken and leaf litter. 

Little spots of black speckled the corners of his vision as he fought to recapture his breath. 

The dragon let out a rattling sort of rumble that sounded too much like laughter for Keith’s liking. It dipped its head once more, carefully selecting another morsel. Wide eyes glinted down at him with no small amount of smugness. 

Keith muttered a few choice words beneath his breath as he got to his feet and strode forward determinedly.

  
  


Frustration had mounted beyond what Keith could bear.

His whole body ached. Unseen bits of twigs and leaves pricked at his scalp and the skin beneath his clothes. Sweat and dirt settled over his skin in an unpleasant layer of grime. 

He gathered up his game-bag with a wince that quickly shifted into a glare as the dragon let out another huff of raspy laughter.

“I saved your life. The  _ least _ you could do is let me ride you.”

The dragon snorted as it nosed along its healing wing. Its tongue peeked out, lapping over scabbed skin and ragged scales.

Keith clenched his teeth against the growl of frustration that bubbled at the back of his throat. He pushed back through the brambles a little more forcefully than was probably necessary. The branches whipped against his knuckles, catching against the backs of his gloves. 

He pushed his way through the forest, kicking aside bits of fallen branches and tangled bracken. A squirrel darted up a tree, tail flipping angrily as it chittered loudly. 

The sun stung Keith’s eyes as he breached the edge of the trees. He blinked against its rays, hiking his shoulder against the pull of the game-bag. Something big and dark lifted its head above the swaying grass of the field.

Cold spider-crawled its way down Keith’s spine. 

The wolf’s ears pricked forward, pale eyes fixed wide and unblinking on Keith’s every movement. It's dark fur ruffled in the breeze. 

Keith had two choices. 

He could run back into the forest and hope that he made it up a tree before the wolf caught up.

Or, he could stand his ground and try to fight the wolf off.

Keith slowly palmed the hilt of his knife as he stepped back.

The wolf tossed its head back and let out a cry that carried over the rippling grasses of the field. 

The woods and field erupted in a flurry of green and gold.

Wolves darted from beneath low branches, sleek bodies cutting through the tall grass. Long pink tongues lolled between sharp, yellow teeth. Their loud baying mixed with excited whines.

Keith braced himself, sending one last look at the sky. His fingers caught on wrapped leather. 

There was a ground-trembling roar from behind him. It was all the warning he had before something rammed against the backs of his thighs and sent him tumbling back.

He slammed down, thighs instinctively clenching as stars winked over his vision. Hot scales slipped and slid under his fingertips. A menacing growl rumbled from Keith’s rescuer as muscles bunched and furled between his thighs.

There was a sound like sails snapping in the wind and the world lurched.

Keith tightened his grip, nails catching against the bumpy edges of scales. Wind tugged at his hair, ripping it free from its tie. 

The wolves’ baying and howling faded away. Air whistled past, snaking cool fingers between the rips and gaps of Keith’s clothing. 

There came a quiet, almost scolding chirrup that nearly got carried away on the wind.

Keith cautiously pried his lashes apart.

The sky was a pure, blue. Thin grey clouds skated overhead, so close Keith imagined he could almost touch them. 

Would they be as soft as they looked? If his nails raked the undersides would rain pour out?

Sun glinted off scales that suddenly had been set ablaze. Bright sparks of red and gold and amber flashed along the edges as they caught the light. 

The dragon’s wings spread wide at either side, occasionally shifting to better catch the wind. 

Keith carefully leaned up and away from the dragon’s back, chancing a glance at what was below.

Blue-green waves stretched almost as far as the eye could see. White capped the edges like frost. Sunlight glittered off eddies and swells. A pod of seals arced out of the water as they headed for the coast. Gulls cried, diving out of the dragon’s path.

There was an odd sliding sensation against Keith’s mind, all at once hot and cold. He jolted, fingers scrabbling against scales. The foreign presence gained a sharp edge.

**_Stay still, stupid. Or you’ll fall off_ ** **.**

The message wasn’t in words, really. But it was clear enough.

Keith nearly swallowed his tongue. “You’re talking to me.”

**_Your brain is just as sharp as your claws_ ** **.**

Indignation made heat crawl up the back of Keith’s neck. He struggled to find a retort but nothing came to mind. Something akin to laughter bounced around in his mind, clearly from the dragon.

**_I have a name._ ** It was a sharp jab of feeling that made Keith cringe. 

“I don’t...Do all animals have their own names? Can everything talk like this?” Keith lifted one hand from the dragon’s back to gesture at his own head. He immediately regretted the motion and his words.

The world canted violently. Keith flung himself flush against the dragon’s back, holding on for dear life as it banked. 

**_Animal?_ ** **Animal?** **_I should drop you for that._ **

“Sorry. I didn’t think-”

There was a snort. Smoke curled up and back into Keith’s face.

**_That much is obvious._ **

Keith bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. “Well? What’s your name?”

**_I could ask you the same thing._ **

If Keith gritted his teeth any harder, he was sure they’d crack. He pushed the breath from his lungs on a frustrated growl that was carried away on the wind. 

_ Patience. Patience. Patience. Patience yields focus.  _

“Keith. My name is Keith.”

There was a curious sort of churning at the back of his mind, almost like the dragon was turning through bits of information around endlessly. The oddly dizzying sensation stopped after a moment. In it’s stead, there grew a new one; burning and tugging at the edges of his mind. 

It was bright and white-hot, threatening to sear all sanity from him. Dimly, Keith felt his fingers slip. Something cool rushed past his face and tugged at his clothes. Everything burned. The pressure inside his skull was too much-

Just as quickly as the fiery pain had engulfed his mind, it receded. 

Everything jolted back into stunning clarity.

Keith’s fingers gripped tight around dark spines. His heels settled into hidden divots above wings that flared wide. The dragon’s presence in his mind rang with an almost crystalline sort of clarity.

**_Aka. That is my name, Keith. And you are my rider._ **


	6. Chapter 6

 

Keith’s days were spent in the forests checking traps and following the deer-herd. It was nearly the same monotonous schedule that had filled his time only days before. But, now, there was an ever-present undercurrent of anticipation and hope that thrummed beneath everything he did.

By the flickering light of fire, Keith made his final preparations. Strips of salted meat were bundled away between layers of dried herbs and folds of cloth. Clothing was mended and reinforced for the climb over the Imbrium. The stitchwork wasn’t the prettiest, but it was sturdy and functional. Skins of water were set aside with a bag of oats, dried fruits and nuts rolled with honey and flour. 

In the dim early mornings and under the cloudy darkness of night, Keith strengthened his newly-struck bond with Aka. 

Over the shallows at night, Keith learned to keep himself centered and balanced when Aka banked and rolled. The dragon would spin and tilt within the breadth of a heartbeat, sending Keith sliding into the waves below. 

The pale fog before dawn, Aka relayed everything she knew about the world, flying, and the Galra. 

She’d been captured nearly a year beforehand and had escaped during a small uprising of soldiers and slaves. Despite dire circumstances and truly terrible treatment, Aka had never bonded with any of the Galrans. At the news of the uprising, Keith’s heart had stuttered.

“Who caused it? A slave? A soldier?”

**_I was unbonded. How am I to know who or what caused the fight?_ **

Keith bit the inside of his cheek. “Did you see any men during the fight?”

**_There were many men. Why do you ask?_ **

“I...There was...Seasons ago, Garrison sent a scouting party over the Imbrium. My…” Keith paused, tongue sticking against his teeth for a moment. “My friend was one of them. Everyone thinks they’re dead. But I know Shiro’s still out there. If he wasn’t I’d feel it.” 

Aka’s touch in Keith’s mind gentled.  **_Your hope and determination are admirable. This Shiro means much to you._ **

Keith blinked hard against the wind and tightened his grip on the dragon’s spines. 

“Yeah. Yeah, he does. There’s so much...I can’t give up on him.” 

Aka’s consciousness bumped along his mind, her curiosity shining over and through the darkness of his memories and emotions like a beacon in the night.

**_It’s because he never gave up on you._ **

There was a moment in which the only sounds were of their breaths, Aka’s wings, and the rush of the wind. 

**_I am uncertain, but there was a man like your Shiro.  But not the same.  If it is him, he is much-changed._ **

“I don’t care.” Keith let the hardness in his voice signal the end of the conversation. 

**_I see._ ** Aka began her spiraling descent into the forests at the foot of the mountains. 

She touched down in the very same open field Keith had faced the wolves in. He’d seen neither hide nor hair of the creatures since the incident. Maybe they’d been scared off by Aka’s presence.

Keith climbed down from the dragon, wincing. Muscles he had never before given thought to ached and burned. Aka’s raspy cough of a laugh followed him as he limped down the hill and toward the village. Her presence in his mind faded with distance before disappearing almost altogether. 

Near the edge of the forest, he stopped to check the bandages wrapped around his thighs. Aka’s scales hadn’t been kind, serrated at the edge and rough if rubbed the wrong way. Little pin-pricks of red darkened the thick wrapping of cloth. The inseams of his trousers were thin and frayed at some spots. 

Keith righted his clothing with a grimace. He’d have to figure something out. The bandages hadn’t even been enough of a barrier for a short flight. Something stronger would need to line his trousers; leather, maybe.

The trees gave way to the swaying fields of tall grass. Cattle meandered through the waving stalks, bells clanking softly. Clouds rolled across the sky, thick and grey with the promise of rain. What sunlight managed to filter through the cracks between the clouds glinted off of the farmers’ sickles as they worked in the fields. 

As Keith passed, some stopped their work. Sickles lowered and the hiss of metal through stalk ceased. He could feel their eyes burning into his back as he moved by. 

Everyone on the road through Garrison gave him a wide berth. Wagons were wheeled precariously close to the ruts of the edge. People stopped and waited for him to pass, eyes wide and hands forming signs to ward off evil.

Keith ignored the burning of his legs and tugged the hood of his cloak up as he hurried toward the butchery. 

It took his eyes a moment to adjust as he stepped inside the shadowy building. Mitch was leant over the counter, examining a skein of shining thread in the hands of a man Keith dimly recognized. At his entrance, both men straightened in an odd, jerky fashion. 

“Hedrick, we’ll talk more on this later. See to it that you keep that thread aside for me.”

Hedrick nodded before bustling past Keith and out the door.

“You’re either daft or dumb, coming into the village, boy. I know you followed after the scouts in earnest but do you have a death wish?”

Keith balked at the hardness in Mitch’s voice. 

Mitch departed the counter and drew the door closed, extinguishing what sunlight had been able to filter in. The ruddy glow of the firelight made the edges of the butcher’s face even harsher.

Keith clenched his jaw. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The dragon, boy!” Mitch hissed the words, like the walls, themselves, were listening. “It’s been flying over Garrison for weeks, now, with a rider. It’s no one within the village. And there’s only one person outside it could be.”

Fear and misgiving ran their claws down Keith’s spine.

“Half the village wants to exile you beyond the bounds of Garrison-”

“Half the village has always wanted that.” Keith grumbled.

“The other half’s been calling on the Council to see you hanged.”

Those cold claws dug deep, infiltrating Keith’s lungs and belly. Patience, it seemed, was no longer something he could afford.

“As we speak now, I’m sure Hedrick has already run to gather the hunters.” Mitch peered through the crack around the door. “So you’d best be asking what you came to ask and  _ quickly _ .”

Keith threw all caution to the wind.

“I won’t be needing the horse anymore but I need a half-bolt of leather.”

Mitch’s eyes rounded a bit at the admission, but he moved behind the counter and lifted out a flat of pressed leather. His knife cut cleanly through the stuff and he shoved it across the counter. 

Keith rolled the leather tightly and set to strapping it to his back. Mitch tossed him a spare strip across the counter.

“That’ll help hold it as you run.” Mitch ushered him through the door behind the counter and toward the rear entrance of the building. “I’ve risked my reputation and neck enough for you, boy. Go, now. And don’t let me see you here again.”

Keith nodded beneath the hood of his cloak and made for the forest. 

It was clear that there was no more time for preparations. What he had would have to do. 

The distant sound of stone scattering under boots echoed between the narrow alleyway walls. Shouting voices carried, thin and sharp, over the strengthening wind. Keith ignored the burning of his thighs and pushed himself harder.

Aka’s presence in his mind suddenly flared to life, hot and churning with urgency.

“I’m a little busy, right now, Aka.” Keith panted as he ducked behind the corner of the village’s forge. 

**_The yellow field. Get there quickly._ **

Keith peered around the forge, fighting to catch his breath and keep his legs from giving out. The hunters had divided, milling between shops and houses with weapons drawn. He’d never make it to the forest or field without being spotted.

“Easier said than done.”

Aka’s presence sharpened, making his limbs jerk.  **_Go! Something comes! You must go! Now!_ **

“No, shit.”

Keith swore, checking the progress of the hunters again before darting from his cover. He sprinted into the nearest field, stooping as he ran. Thunder rolled. The bundle of leather bounced against his back with every stride. Sweat made his scalp and skin prickle. Blades of long, green leaves slapped at his face and hands. 

Thunder cracked and rolled, almost unceasingly, without a single flash of lightning. Aka’s presence in Keith’s mind trembled.

Yells and shouts rang out from the edge of the field. Keith’s heart pounded in his chest. Had he been spotted? The forest was so close, only yards away…

An arc of darkness spilled over the tops of the trees and spread over the swaying stalks. The wind grew nigh unbearable, pushing Keith to his knees. He looked up, hair whipping across his cheeks, and lost his breath.

Wings the size of sailing ships spread wide overhead. They folded, beating the air into a maelstrom. Claws like the bowed legs of anchors flashed in the dim light of the approaching storm. 

Keith blinked against the rush of wind and dug his fingers into the earth to keep himself steady.

Arrows whistled through the air, metal heads arcing off of scales the color of fresh ink. The ground shook. Those massive claws curled into the tilled earth, tearing through crops with ease. Wings fanned with a booming noise that made Keith’s ears ache. 

_ It hadn’t been thunder at all _ , he realized.

Spears spun, sinking into the ground and clanging off the dragon’s hide. Its sides expanded in a great breath and Keith felt his insides freeze over. 

The fire Keith had expected, however, didn’t appear. The dragon roared, lips peeling back over blue-tinged gums. The sound made Keith’s head spin and his ears ring. He stumbled on his way to his feet, palms jamming over his ears to protect them.

Across the span of the field, hunters called to one another, voices barely carrying over the din the dragon was making. Its wings furled upwards over its back before arcing downward, knocking arrows and spears aside. Any projectiles that made it past the dragon’s defense simply bounced off of its scales. 

Rappelling lines of barbed steel and iron were launched from crossbows shot in tandem. Shining metal spun through the air and tangled around whatever it hit; crops, talons, scales, membrane, and spines. One great wing folded under the traps, flapping uselessly against the mess of metal. 

It was then that Keith saw what the dragon’s wings had been fighting to protect.

The figure of a man slumped over the dragon’s back. Short black hair ruffled with every breath of wind and buck of the creature. Long legs were lashed to what looked like some sort of saddle. The man’s arms hung limply over dark scales. His face, even half-hidden behind a mask of cloth, was heart-wrenchingly familiar. 

Keith’s throat closed on a choked breath.

“ _ Shiro? _ ”


	7. Chapter 7

 

The first fat drops of rain spattered unnoticed against Keith’s shoulders.

His knees threatened to give out as he stared at the unconscious shape of Shiro atop the dragon’s back. 

Across the field, the hunters fired another volley of barbed netting. The weighted edges wrapped around one of the dragon’s forelegs, causing it to stumble. Shiro was jostled as the dragon fought to recover its balance. 

The rain began to fall in earnest. It rolled down Keith’s face and into his eyes. It soaked the earth churned up by the dragon and turned it into a slick, plant-tangled, muddy mess. 

Another net spun through the air, whipping too close to Shiro’s limp form for Keith’s comfort. 

He’d never make it close enough to think of climbing the dragon. Even if it were possible, its hide would be too slick to scale. 

Calling on Aka to fly him in close wouldn’t work, either. The traps, bolts, and spears sailing through the air were too hazardous. 

Keith could do nothing but watch as the dragon snarled and fought to free itself; Shiro hanging limp and seemingly lifeless from its back.

Copper-colored braids darted toward the front-lines of the hunters. Katie handed something to a brown-haired archer. She shouted something, voice quickly ripped away by the wind. Her green hood fell away, rain beading on the lenses of her goggles. She thrust something into the archer’s hands with a grim look.

The archer wasted no time, nocking the slender shaft of wood and taking aim. The string was loosed expertly. The arrow sailed through the air on a collision course with the dragon’s gaping maw. It sank into the bluish gums with ease.

The archer punched both hands into the air in a triumphant motion that made Keith’s insides churn sickeningly. 

Katie pushed the archer’s arms back down, voice barely reaching Keith’s ears.

“ _ Get back! He’s coming down! _ ”

The dragon’s jaw clapped shut with a noise like boulders crashing together. Its pale yellow eyes rolled before blinking shut behind bony lids. Those massive wings went limp, both sets falling akimbo as the dragon toppled forward. Its tail crashed down a mere yard from Keith, spines and spikes raking furrows into the ground.

Everything was still for a moment. 

A cheer rose up from the ranks of the hunters. A few scaled the sides of the dragon to cut Shiro loose of the saddle. He slid from the dragon’s back, collapsing onto the rain-soaked ground in a heap. 

Keith’s teeth pressed together painfully in anger. He moved along the edge of the field and  quickly scaled the sloping cliffside. He crouched behind an outcropping of rock, shaking the hair out of his eyes.

A hood was jammed over Shiro’s head before a couple of hunters grasped him beneath the armpits and began dragging him into the village.

Virulent heat built in Keith’s belly and boiled up his throat. They were treating Shiro like he was an  _ enemy _ . 

Katie took a hesitant step toward the dragon, one hand lifting as if to touch it. 

The brown-haired archer stopped her, head ducking as he spoke. Katie frowned at him, goggles speckled with rain and half-fogged over. With a huff, she grudgingly followed after the boy.

Keith picked his way along the narrow cliffside above the village.

The hunters made a clear path toward the lodge of the Council. They disappeared into the building, Shiro along with them.

Keith hastily climbed down the rocky cliffside until he reached a ledge that was perfect for a drop to the lodge’s roof. He listened at the thatch-covered door of the attic for a moment before easing it aside. There was no ladder to climb down, but the jump didn’t appear too rough to make. 

He hung from the lip of the door before dropping. His boots thudded against the ceiling a little too loudly for his liking. 

Keith held his breath, listening for any signs that anyone had heard him. Seconds ticked by. Voices issued from the floor beneath. The attic door remained shut tight. 

Heat filtered through the cracks between the floorboards and thawed Keith’s rain-numbed skin. He made his way to the attic door, ears pricked and breaths coming shallow. Between the floorboards, he could spy bits and pieces of the room and its inhabitants. 

Iverson’s grey haired head bobbed around the edges of the room as he paced. No one voice was decipherable as the Council talked over each other in a bid to make a decision.

Keith craned his neck, eyes searching... _ there _ .

The hood still shrouded Shiro’s bowed head. His broad shoulders were pulled back, secured by a thick section of rope. His waist and ankles had been restrained, too. 

“ _ Enough _ .” Iverson’s voice cut through all argument and left silence in its wake. “Our most pressing matter is that of the dragon in the western field. Cree, have a group of hunters stand guard. Rotate them through the night, if you must.”

A blonde woman bowed, fist over her heart before taking her leave.

“Kaplan, find the young Holt girl and ask her about that weapon. We may have further use of it.” Iverson pivoted on his heel. “The rest of you, take the night to gather yourselves. In the morning, we’ll hold a tribunal. We have much to decide.”

“What about Kogane’s son, sir? He was last seen calling in the black dragon.” 

Keith couldn’t see who had spoken from his limited view of the room. Cold fingers tickled down his spine. He prodded at Aka’s presence in his mind until it unfurled, strained as it was with distance. Aka’s concern mingled with frustration and curiosity through their tenuous link. 

“Just please stay hidden.” Keith breathed into the floorboards.

Aka’s frustration sharpened before her presence once more faded to the back of his mind.

“-Continue your search through the village. Comb every home and shop. Even the fields. If the boy still remains at large, I’ll have Cree send a search party out to the abandoned lodges.”

The rest of the Council murmured their respects before departing.

“Allura,” Iverson called. “Stay, if you would.”

“Of course.” The white-haired woman secured the door after the last of the Council. 

There was a heavy beat of silence. Rain beat down upon the roof of the lodge. Somewhere, there was a leak. The discordant noise rang off of something metal. A bucket, perhaps. The fire cracked and hissed as wind worked down the chimney. 

Iverson heaved a weary sigh. Wood creaked. 

“It seems as though the day has finally come. And we’re sorely unprepared.”

“If I may be bold, Iverson?” 

Keith had never heard the woman speak much before. Her words were strangely accented. It was said that she was the last of her land and people, besides her advisor, Coran. No one seemed to know what land or people, however, and no one had dared to ask. So many had fallen to the Galran Empire that it was fruitless to keep track any longer. Anyone who escaped took to the ocean or came to call Garrison home. They were all one in the same after that.

“You are never anything but,” Iverson’s voice held a thin edge of bemusement.

“Perhaps the day has not yet arrived. You and your people seem to recognize this man. Is he not one of your own? It could very well be that he is here of his own will, a bearer of warning or salvation.”

“I didn’t expect such foolishness from you of all people.” Iverson’s voice had hardened. “He vanishes for seasons on end and returns on the back of a Galran war-monster. He wears the clothing of their soldiers. His ward spies from within and outside the village, a plant he left here to root and grow. The boy’s been spotted on dragon-back. He was the one to call this soldier and his monster to us. And you want to welcome them with pretty words and open arms? Did the destruction of your people teach you nothing, Allura?”

Keith’s breath caught in his chest, rattling in his lungs before escaping on a choked gasp. His fingers curled into fists, knuckles scraping against the rough wood of the floorboards. 

“You’re right. It is foolish of me to still believe the best of people-”

There was a deafening banging at the door. Keith startled, boots scraping over the floor and heart hammering. 

“What in the gods’ names-” Iverson’s heavy footsteps crossed the room.

The door was wrenched wide.

“Chief Iverson, we spotted the boy on the beach. He’s stolen a rowboat!”

“That dirty little- I should have exiled him. Gather the free hunters and what fishermen are still awake. If we cannot catch the boy, we’ll send his boat to the bottom.” There was the tell-tale snap of a crossbow loading. “Allura. Watch over the Galran soldier.”

“Of course, sir.”

The door slammed closed. Silence reigned. 

Keith needed a distraction. He needed this Allura woman out of the way so he could free Shiro-

The attic door flew open.

Keith froze, prostrated on the floorboards with nowhere to hide.

Cool blue eyes regarded him with no small amount of exasperation. 

“How Iverson thought you were any sort of spy is beyond me. Lying about in the open and gaping like a fish at the market when you’re caught.”

Keith blinked, scrambling to his feet and grabbing at his knife.

“Don’t bother. I’m going to help you.” Allura motioned him over when he didn’t move, clearly growing impatient. “We don’t have much time. Let’s not waste it by filling it with meaningless posturing.”

Keith sheathed his knife and followed after her. The ladder trembled under their hasty footsteps.

“I understand that your trust is difficult to earn, but we don’t have time for that.” Allura peered through the door’s slitted window. “And you don’t have much choice in any case. Work quickly. When you’re done, I’ll cover your escape.”

Keith wasted no time. He darted to Shiro’s side and pulled the hood away. His heart tripped. 

Dark circles ringed the man’s eyes. Bruises mottled one edge of his jaw underneath a rough shadow of stubble. Long lashes fanned down over pale cheeks. A long, tapered scar rose over the bridge of his nose. A shock of white hair fell over his forehead, so stark in its contrast to the rest.

Heat burned behind Keith’s eyes. “ _ Shiro _ .”

His fingers trembled before he steadied his hand and pulled the blade through the ropes. The frayed ends fell away, curling around their feet like pale snakes. He stooped at Shiro’s side, lifting his limp right arm to gain some leverage-

Keith’s hand fumbled along Shiro’s shoulder and bicep. His fingers bumped against the knot that held Shiro’s sleeve shut, his heart diving into his belly. Pain sparked along Keith’s jaw as he bit back the thoughts that made his head and insides churn.

Allura clasped a dark-colored cloak about her shoulders and cast the hood over her face. She grasped the door’s bolt and glanced over her shoulder.

“Move as fast as you can. Get to your home and prepare to flee. Coran and I will meet you in the clearing west of your home.” Allura wrenched the door wide.

Rain drummed down, puddling in the road’s ruts. There was hardly any light to be had. Windows shone warm gold in the darkness of the village. Beyond the lodges, though, the night was dark as pitch. He’d have to trust his senses to guide him back.

Allura darted off, quickly disappearing in the darkness. 

Keith set off, stumbling through ankle-deep puddles and patches of slick mud that threatened to send both he and Shiro to their knees. His legs and lungs burned with effort. Rain ran into his eyes and seeped beneath his collar, soaking his skin and shirt. 

The edge of the village laid only yards away. Boughs and branches swayed in the storm’s wind just ahead. 

Keith rounded a shop’s corner, steeling himself for a sprint through the fields.

Pale light suddenly shone through the sodden darkness. Keith flinched back, eyes stinging. He grabbed for his knife, heart slamming against his ribs.

“Holy  _ quiznacking  _ shit, Pidge. You were right.” 

“I usually am.”

Keith blinked against the light, fingers tight on the hilt of his blade. It was the brown-haired archer. Tucked against his side, nearly hidden by the boy’s elbow, was Katie. Her tiny hands cupped a glowing stone, seemingly the source of the pale light. Behind the pair of them stood the smithy’s apprentice. The large boy’s eyes cast about constantly even as his hands wrung the belly of a crossbow.

“Get out of my way.” Keith adjusted his hold on Shiro with a glare.

The strange stone’s light glinted off the blade of his knife.

“Whoa, you know, that doesn’t actually sound like a bad idea.” 

“Hunk, no. No, no, no. We’re helping them get outta here.” The brown-haired boy approached, sliding beneath Shiro’s other shoulder and propping him up. 

Keith jammed his knife into its sheath and glared over Shiro’s head.

“I don’t know who you are and I don’t need your help.”

“Uh, the name’s Lance. We were hunters’ apprentices together?”

Keith blinked before snorting. “You were stuck at the junior rank for two years.”

Thin brows slammed down. “Yeah, well. Not any more! I earned my hunter’s rank last year. Which is more than I can say for  _ you _ .”

“We don’t have time for this.” Katie peeked around the shop’s corner. “The hunters just set that rowboat on fire. They’ll be heading back to the Council lodge shortly.”

“Fine,” Keith ground out. “Douse the light, Katie.”

“It’s  _ Pidge _ , now, and how will we see where we’re going without it?” Katie -  _ Pidge _ \- frowned.

“You won’t but I know the path and you’re following me, right?” Keith set off, ignoring Lance’s startled  _ ‘hey!’ _ .

Keith lead them along the deer- and cow-paths he could. It shortened their journey by precious seconds. Still, he expected to hear the cries of hunters on their heels at any moment.

The shadowy mass of the decrepit lodge Keith called home loomed between the trees. Hunk jogged ahead and pushed the door wide. 

Keith directed Lance to settle Shiro on the chair by the door before setting on collecting his gathering of travelling gear.

“Planning on going somewhere?” Pidge’s voice had gained a sharp edge. She kicked at the skins of water by the door.

Keith paused only for the breadth of a second before cinching the drawstring of a pouch shut. He pressed his lips together and checked on another bag’s contents.

“You  _ were _ .” Pidge’s voice pitched higher in outrage. “You were going to go after them all this time and you never thought to talk to me?”

Keith hiked his shoulders. “It wasn’t like that-”

“You’re full of shit, Keith Kogane.” Pidge took a breath like she was gearing up for a real talking-to.

The door of the lodge crashed open to reveal a red-haired man with a thick moustache. He was soaked from head to toe, water visibly dripping from his trousers and shirt. 

“Keith, my boy, Allura is waiting in the clearing with- oh.” The man blinked before smiling in a bemused sort of way. “Are you all called ‘Keith’, then? Like some sort of secret alias? Allura didn’t say there was more than one of you-”

“That’s because there isn’t. I’m Keith.” Keith swung what packs he could carry himself onto his back. “These guys aren’t coming.”

“The  _ hell  _ I’m not.” Pidge’s voice cut through the air. Her face was absolutely thunderous. “Shiro is the only person who can tell me where my father and brother are. If you think for a  _ second _ that I’m going to let you and him go without me you’re an idiot.”

“And-” Hunk’s voice wavered before strengthening. “And Pidge isn’t going anywhere with a Galra spy without me.”

Lance’s chest puffed out, “Same here. We’re all coming, whether you like it or not.”

“There’s no way...No. You’re not coming-”

“Well, let’s get our tail-wings moving! The hunters were rather warm on the trail as I headed here, after all.” The red-haired man cheerily clapped his hands together.

Keith swore, swallowing back the fiery heat that threatened to crawl up and out of his throat.

“Everyone grab a bag. Big guy, think you can manage Shiro with Moustache’s help?”

“My name is Coran, young man, and I-”

“Y-yeah. No problem.” Hunk lifted Shiro’s limp form with barely a grunt.

“Let’s go. Everyone stay quiet and follow me.” Keith set a brutal pace through the forest.

Every snap and crack of the others’ feet over rocks and bracken had Keith tensing. At any moment, he expected to hear the hunters’ calls and cries. Arrows would whistle through the air with the express purpose of stopping their escape at any cost.

The trees thinned before becoming sparse and scattered. Wet grass bent in the wind, rustling and whispering. Keith threw up a hand to stop the rag-tag party.

He grasped at the hot thread in his mind, pulling until he felt the tether snap into place.

**_Keith_ ** . Aka’s thoughts were lined with relief and no small amount of looming chastisement. 

“The wolf’s field.” Keith wasted no time. “Get here as fast as you can.”

There was no hesitation,  **_I am coming._ **

In the distance, cries rose up. There was an earth-shaking rumble. 

“Tell me that’s not the dragon.” Hunk hunched, shoulders folding in on themselves. “Did you just call the dragon?”

Keith ignored the distant sound of thunderous wing-beats and focused on the strengthening of Aka’s presence in his mind.

“Not the big one.” 

“Oh. Oh, good.” Hunk chuckled a little anxiously. “Wait. What do you mean, ‘ _ not the big one _ ’-”

“Holy  _ quiznack _ \- Dragon! Get down!” Lance dropped to his knee, knuckles paling around the curve of his bow.

Aka landed, wings flaring wide before folded restlessly against her back. She blinked at the assembled crowd.

**_I agreed to carry you over the mountains. Not a herd of soft, scared hatchlings._ **

Keith grimaced, and began looping the bags over Aka’s back. “I know. For what it’s worth, I think we’re about to get some help.”

Coran circled Aka as Keith lashed the bags tightly. 

“My stars...Roughly eighteen hands-”

Aka snapped her teeth at Coran’s unwelcome touch.

“Oh, my! Beautiful dentition! No bicuspids and canines like the scimitars of Southern Saluwar Province! Scales clear and such a unique coloring! What a fine young dragon!”

**_Tell him I’ve eaten things less nosey than he is._ **

Keith bit the inside of his cheek. He tossed the bolt of leather Mitch had given him over Aka’s back and checked his knots once more. 

The air whipped into a gale around them. The sky grew even darker as it was blocked out by pitch-colored wings. 

Between the massive dragon’s shoulders perched Allura. Loose strands of her long white hair fell around her face. She bent low, one palm laid flat against the dragon’s neck. Her mouth moved, voice too low to be heard from the ground. 

With a rumble, the dragon crouched, lowering itself to the ground. 

“Well, that’s our cue!” Coran motioned for the others to climb on.

“That thing...Could easily eat us.” Hunk fiddled with the shaft of his crossbow.

“If it wanted to, it already would’ve.” Pidge passed by Hunk and began scaling up the dragon’s side. 

“Oh. How reassuring.”

“Come on, we don’t have much time!” Allura’s voice carried thinly over the wind and rain. “Coran, ride with Keith in case we get separated.”

Shiro was settled in front of Allura. She made quick work of the straps at his legs before helping Pidge and Hunk settle behind her. 

Something white  _ thunk _ ed into the ground at Lance’s feet. The arrow’s shaft shivered in the wind. 

Lance yelped and hurried toward the black dragon.

Coran gracefully vaulted over Aka’s back and settled in behind Keith. “Right-o! Ready when you are, Allura!”

“Halt!”

“Stop!”

The hunters’ yells were quickly drowned out by the sound of wingbeats. Both dragons raced toward the other edge of the clearing, footsteps making the ground tremble. Then, with a leap, they were airborne. 

Arrows and bolts chased after their ascent before falling away harmlessly. The field spun out of view, disappearing underneath a blanket of fog and clouds.

Then, everything was unknown sky.

It was cold above the clouds. The wind of their passage threaded frigid fingers between the layers and gaps in Keith’s clothing. It ruffled through the strange new shock of white in Shiro’s hair and pulled at the frayed edges of his shirt.

Overhead, the stars seemed to shine clearly for the first time in seasons.


	8. Chapter 8

What seemed like hours passed.

The churning grey mass of clouds thinned the further along the spine of the Imbrium they flew. Thin fingers of mist and fog rolled over the tops of trees. Wisps of cloud curled in whorls beneath the dragon's’ wings. 

The moon’s light cast a silver glow over everything. Boughs and branches waved in the night wind far below. The stars glittered, clear and sharp, overhead. 

Keith readjusted his grip on Aka’s spines, trying to will some feeling back into his fingers. He wriggled his toes with a wince and tried to ignore the way the cold air bit at his cheeks. His eyes stung and his body ached.

Aka’s presence in his mind slid along his own.  **_Keith?_ **

“I’m fine, Aka. Just...cold. Hungry. And tired.”

“We’ve travelled far enough from Garrison, I would think.” It was the first Coran had spoke in some time. “I’m sure Allura would agree that it’s safe to land for the night.”

Coran shifted a bit as though he was repositioning himself. When he spoke again, it was in a deafening foreign language that made Keith’s ears ache.

Ahead, on the black dragon’s back, Allura turned to answer. Her words were thin from distance and indecipherable in any case. She raised one hand in a circular motion before gesturing downward.

“We’ll be landing shortly!” Coran patted Keith’s shoulder cheerfully.

“Sounds great.” Keith pressed his nose into his collar and flexed his fingers again.

After several moments, Allura called out again and the black dragon began to bank. There, below them, a clearing appeared through the fog. 

The black dragon landed, shuffling its wings until they folded neatly against its sides. 

Aka descended, stumbling on the landing a bit. Her wings trembled as she tucked them back.

Keith leaned forward over her neck, numb fingers sliding over warm scales.

“You okay?” He kept his voice low as he watched the others climb down the black dragon’s side.

**_Tell the nosey-man he’s heavier than he looks._ **

Keith slipped off, ignoring the pain that shocked through his ankles at the landing. He pulled at the gear strapped to Aka’s sides. Leather and treated skins fell away with muted rushes of noise. Aka’s relief spread through his mind. 

“Coran, do you mind fetching us some wood for a fire?” Allura pulled at the buckles at Shiro’s legs. “I believe a good fire would go a long way to warm all of us up.”

“Of course. You there,” Coran gestured at Hunk. “I could use a strapping young fellow’s help!”

“Uh. Sure.” Hunk followed after the moustached man, hesitating for only a moment.

Allura settled Shiro down against the black dragon’s flank before turning to face Keith.

“You’re a fair flyer.” 

Keith crossed his arms. “I could say the same to you.”

“Yeah,” Pidge looked up from her examination of the packs. “Nobody but the Galra know anything about dragons. I mean, except for Keith.”

“Eh. the Council’s still out on that one.” Lance muttered.

Keith shot the brown-haired boy a withering look. Lance’s face scrunched in return.

“Keith’s not the only one who owes us an explanation. I think you do, too.” Pidge pulled a small bag of dried fruits and nuts from the packs and poked through it.

Allura’s shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly. In the pale moonlight, she suddenly looked worn. The faded markings on her cheeks were suddenly stark. There was a faint wrinkle between her brows, a worry-line. She looked, all at once, incredibly young and aged beyond what Keith could imagine. 

When she spoke, there was a peculiar hitch in her voice.

“That is fair. Do you mind if we wait until Coran and your friend return? I’ve never been fond of repeating myself.”

Pidge nodded, one cheek puffed full of honeyed seeds. 

“But I am fond of your voice.” Lance sidled closer to the Councilor with a crooked smile. “Whaddya say you tell us a little about yours-”

Pidge knocked her boot against Lance’s shin. Lance cut off with an abated yelp and glared down at the red-headed girl. Pidge, nonplussed, continued to dig through the sack in her hands.

A sort of shuffling noise near the black dragon drew Keith’s eyes.

His heart stuttered in his chest.

Shiro’s head lolled, lifting slowly. His hand lifted, palm pushing against the dragon’s side in a shaky attempt to stand. 

Keith was at his side in the next breath. “Shiro.”

The man stilled, head lifting. 

His body was so tense beneath Keith’s hands. 

Aka seemed to steel herself in his mind, wary and coiled tightly. 

Dark eyes blinked once, twice. Shiro’s brow furrowed. His mouth opened on a shuddering exhale. 

The black dragon let out a low rumble as Shiro’s hand lifted from its flank. Aka’s own threateningly promising hiss pierced the air in response.

Keith only heard it dimly, too absorbed in the way Shiro’s palm curved over his shoulder. The fingers tightened as though testing the give of his skin.

Shiro next breath carried a rough sort of laugh. “Keith?”

Wings of heat and light burst to life behind Keith’s ribs and threatened to soar higher. He let them. The tight feeling in his throat loosened as he felt his lips curl into a smile. His fingers hooked around Shiro’s shoulder.

“It’s good to have you back.”

“Shiro?” Pidge’s voice suddenly sounded small as she same to stand at Keith’s elbow. 

Shiro’s eyes flicked down, widening at the sight of the youngest Holt sibling. His hand dropped from Keith’s shoulder. Under the darkness of dirt and stubble, his cheeks paled.

“Katie.” 

Pidge launched herself forward, cheek pressing into into Shiro’s chest and arms wrapping around his middle. 

“I never thought I’d see you again. The Council declared all of you- Where are dad and Matt? Are they alright?”

“I-I don’t-” 

“Guys! We’re back! Where do you want the firewood?” Hunk’s voice carried easily over the field.

“Ah, good.” Allura gently pulled Pidge away. “Could I ask you to pull some rations from the bags for the group?”

Pidge frowned before reluctantly making her way back to the packs. Lance cocked out one hip and swayed a little closer to Allura. 

“Is there anything  _ I _ can do for  _ you _ ?”

“Actually, yes. Would you free up a pit for the fire, please?”

“Oh. I guess. Sure.” 

Keith bit back a snort and turned his gaze back to Shiro.

The black dragon’s head hovered over them, its pale yellow eyes shining in the moonlight. Shiro’s palm laid flat against its scales as he he gazed up at it. 

**_They’re bonded._ ** Aka huffed behind them, the membranes of her wings rustling as she stretched before settling again.

The black dragon rumbled. Shiro's eyes flickered over to Keith before returning to the dragon's. He nodded almost imperceptibly. 

Wood knocked together dully.

"Keith," Allura's voice pierced through his thoughts. "Would you mind helping us with the fire?"

Keith dragged his gaze away from Shiro and the black dragon and glanced over to Aka. Her bony lids had fallen shut and her wings folded neatly over her spines and sides. 

"Aka," Keith gently prodded their link in his mind. "I know you're not sleeping."

**_I was trying_ ** . One gleaming eye cracked open, its pupil thinned in irritation.

"Can you lend a spark for the fire?" Keith had never seen her breathe fire. But from the smoke that occasionally curled from her nose and between her teeth, it was clear that she could. 

**_I could._ ** She made no move.

"Aka-"

With a sound like water being flicked onto hot stones, Aka rose and stalked toward the assembled firepit. 

Hunk and Lance tripped over themselves in their haste to get out of her way. 

She ducked her head, sides expanded minutely before she hiccuped a tiny flame into the space between the logs. She nosed at the wood until the sparks caught and licked at her snout. She shuffled her wings and turned.

**_Satisfied?_ ** Aka stalked back to her resting spot, tail whipping against the back of Keith's leg none-too-gently as she passed. 

"For a Galra, you've got pretty shitty control over your dragon." Lance held his hands out over the fire, brows raised at Keith over the open flames.

Keith's fingernails bit into his palms. "I'm not a-" 

Aka spun, lip curling over her teeth as she hissed.  **_He does not control me-_ **

" _ Keith is not Galra _ ." Shiro's voice cut through his, sharp and loud. 

His words bounced off of the trees and echoed in the silence. Every eye pinned on him. 

"Keith..." Shiro took a deep breath that shook a little. "Keith's not Galra."

Lance's eyes narrowed, his mouth opening and chest puffing like he was about to argue.

Hunk seemed to take note. "Hey, uh, Pidge! What've you got over there, I'm starving."

Lance was tugged toward the packs of provisions unceremoniously. The coarse material of the bags rustled as Pidge listed each one's contents. 

They settled around the fire, the uncomfortable chill of the air and earth made bearable by the cheery crackling of the flames. 

Aka curled in on herself behind Keith, her wings draping over her back and spines and tail tucking beneath the sharp edge of her jaw. Her bony eyelids drooped tiredly, emberine eyes winking underneath. She kept her gaze on the black dragon, even as exhausted as she was.

Keith pushed his knuckles against the ridges of her tail. "Sleep."

**_I am trying. Being watched is making it difficult, however._ ** Aka's gaze flickered over to the black dragon, her lip curling up slightly. Delicate tendrils of smoke rose from her nostrils as she huffed in clear irritation. 

The black dragon had made itself comfortable as well. Its head rested atop its claws, every exhale making the grass shiver and bend beneath its snout. Its wings folded neatly, firelight catching along the shadowed edges and revealing stretches of tattered, scarred membrane. It blinked at the pair of them almost curiously.

“Alright, guys.” Pidge’s voice cut through the silence. She drew her knees up, gnawing at a curl of cured meat as she  pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. “Spill it all.”

For a moment it was a tag game of gazes. 

Shiro avoided the sharp glint of Pidge’s inquisitive eyes and quickly bit into a strip of dried meat. 

The flames of the fire flickered, reflecting in Allura’s eyes as she tried to stare Keith down. 

“What I wanna know is how our good buddy Keith kept that dragon hidden for so long.” Lance’s boots scraped over the ground, heels tearing up threads of grass.

“Yeah.” Hunk craned his neck, peering at Aka’s dozing form behind Keith. “How long have you had it? Where did you keep it? Will it get as big as, uh, the other one?” 

**_I am not an ‘it’._ ** One of Aka’s eyes slitted open balefuly. 

Keith’s arms tightened over his chest. 

“I found Aka in the woods while hunting almost a half-season ago. She’d gotten caught in one of the dragon-traps-”

Pidge leaned forward abruptly, eyes tracing over Aka’s wings and flanks analytically. Her lips parted around what would surely be a torrent of questions. But at a nudge from Hunk, she sat back with pursed lips. 

Keith quickly shared the barest bits of the past half-season. He left out most of the details. No one needed to know just how long it had taken him to befriend Aka...Let alone learn to ride.

**_You are_ ** **still** **_learning, fledgling._ ** Aka brushed amusedly against his thoughts.

“You planned to cross the Imbrium for seasons...You tamed a dragon….You-” Pidge’s voice cracked. Her eyes gleamed a little too brightly. “You were going to look for our families and you never, not once, thought to talk to me about it? I never gave up, either, Keith. Every ship that came into port? I was there. I shared  _ everything _ with you. And  _ you _ \- You were just gonna leave without ever- How  _ could _ you-”

Shame and frustration crawled over Keith’s skin and wormed their way underneath. Heat made the back of his throat and eyes burn. The blunt edges of his nails dug through the sleeves of his shirt.

“ _ Because I had nothing else to lose _ .”

Pidge’s head snapped back. 

In Keith’s periphery, he saw Shiro pale. Long fingers twitched, his hand reaching out before falling limply to his side again.

Keith didn’t look away from Pidge, ignoring the looks of what could only be pity from the others.

“You had schooling to finish. An apprenticeship. Friends. A future-”

“And it wasn’t up to you to decide what was best for me.” Pidge’s voice still possessed that core of iron, but it had softened. “I get what you were thinking but it wasn’t right.”

Coran nodded from the other side of the fire. “And here you both are; plus a few extra hands.”

Keith picked at a loose thread near the crook of his elbow and glanced up at Shiro surreptitiously. 

Firelight danced over the planes of Shiro’s face. The scar that rode the bridge of his nose cast a slight shadow beneath his eyes. 

Shiro glanced up, meeting Keith’s gaze. One side of his mouth lifted in a tired smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Something behind Keith’s ribs trembled and burned before he quashed it. Coarse cloth rustled as he pulled a ration of dried meat from the packs. It was cold and tough but it settled the fluttering in his belly. 

“Shiro,” Pidge turned her sights on him. “Dad. Matt. Where are they? What happened?”

There was a heavy beat of quiet. Shiro looked away before exhaling a breath that shivered and hung in the cold night air. 

“Perhaps it’s best to start at the beginning.” Allura offered, not unkindly.

Shiro nodded, almost to himself. 

“The crossing over the Imbrium was difficult, but we made it between the peaks during a lull between the summer storms. It was quiet on the passage down. We arrived at the Kythra outpost and found it abandoned. We moved on toward the next outpost. It had been abandoned, too. Every outpost we reached was just as empty as the others. We were set upon by Galran troops before we reached Puig. They assumed that we were part of a rebel force that held the Imbrium and its outposts. We were...”

Shiro paused before continuing, muscles in his jaw jumping as his brow furrowed. 

“The rebels refused to surrender Puig. They, the Galrans, they burned it down. There was no time for anyone inside to...They made us watch and then they marched us through the...They  _ inducted _ us into the slave ranks. We marched on to Nalquod. It was there that I last saw Commander Holt and Matt.”

Pidge’s voice shook when she spoke. “Were they alive?”

Shiro nodded woodenly. “They were. They were chosen for the workforce.”

Pidge’s shoulders slumped in relief. 

Lance’s blue eyes were still narrowed over the fire. “What about you? What were you chosen for?”

Shiro’s lips twisted bitterly. Behind him, the black dragon growled. The creature settled under a touch from Shiro.

“I was a ground soldier. We all were. Only the Galrans were Riders and ranking officers. We were just...battle fodder. I befriended a few others who’d been caught escaping the Kythra outpost. We planned an escape together. Kuro,” Shiro paused at the dragon’s hum of acknowledgment before continuing. “Kuro and I had bonded inadvertently in battle and I knew that he’d be strong enough to carry us all free. But we were discovered. An example was made for any other deserters...or ‘ _ dragon thieves’ _ .”

The fire cracked loudly into the sudden silence. Sparks spiraled upward before winking out. 

Keith’s nails dug into the heels of his palms as he listened. Sticky heat beaded on his skin before soaking into the leather of his gloves. 

Shiro spared barely a glance down at the knot of fabric beneath his shoulder. “A pocket of rebel soldiers found me after that. They patched me up and took me in. A season later, we staged a rebellion. A battalion of us broke a handful of unbonded dragons free. We’d hoped to ride them out to what villages and outposts we could. Maybe prevent something like what happened at Puig from happening again. Maybe find others like us. Start a true rebellion.”

“Aka was one of those dragons you freed.” Keith murmured. “She remembers you.”

Shiro’s eyes flickered over to the dozing dragon. Kuro huffed, smoke curling from his nostrils. 

“I’m glad to see she ended up in good hands.” Shiro’s smile was small but genuine. 

“What happened to the others?” Hunk’s voice was unbelievably quiet.

“The dragons scattered as soon as they were freed. I tried to get to another paddock but by then…” Shiro shook his head. “Kuro picked me up and that’s the last thing I remember.”

Kuro hummed, sides bellowing in a heavy breath. Shiro’s head half-turned his way. Dark eyes met pale yellow. Shiro nodded almost imperceptibly and seemed to relax minutely. 

Keith pulled his gaze away from Shiro, mind still clinging to a few tenacious thoughts. 

“Allura. Coran. What are your parts in all this?”

“Coran and I have been advisors for a very long time. I knew of Shiro when he passed his apprenticeship and became a hunter and scout. And Keith. I knew your father, albeit for a very short time. When Iverson began spouting tales of you both being Galran spies, I didn’t believe it. It was inconceivable.”

**_She’s inconceivable._ ** Aka’s thoughts were laced with suspicion and disbelief. 

Keith agreed. He’d never seen hide nor hair of the woman before, even on his expulsion from apprenticeship and schooling. Why would a strange, foreign advisor suddenly show interest in him? 

“And the flying? How and where did you learn that?” Pidge’s voice held a fine edge. Her brown eyes refused to flinch under Allura’s cool blue gaze.

“From tales the traders carry. It’s actually quite a bit more simple than it seems.”

**_See? Inconceivable._ **


	9. Chapter 9

Morning came early.

The sun rose above the trees, hazy gold and barely warm. Rosy pink painted over the horizon. The ocean was an unseen thing that glittered beyond the far side of the mountain.

Keith pulled the leashes on the packs tight and tried to work some feeling back into his fingers. 

Aka raked her teeth over the rib bone of a deer she’d taken down in the night. Apparently satisfied that nothing remained between her teeth, she began washing her face. 

Several days and nights had passed since they departed Garrison.

They flew throughout the day and sometimes into the night if the weather was favorable. Garrison laid behind them and the Galran empire stretched before them.

In the distance, the stone towers of an outpost rose over the tops of the trees. 

Kuro slipped between the trees then, wings shuffling at his sides and back. His blued tongue flickered over his teeth and muzzle, swiping away the last of whatever he’d finished eating. Shiro met him at the edge of the field, scaling the dragon’s side with ease. The metallic noises of buckles barely carried over the distance as Shiro lashed himself into the saddle. The straps slipped into place so quickly under those long fingers. They seemed so sure, so agile and Keith wondered if they were still calloused in the same places. Would they catch in his hair if-

“Good morning, young man!” Coran’s chipper voice cut through Keith’s ponderings like the sunlight through fog. 

The red-haired man made himself comfortable behind Keith with a pleased noise. He stretched, then, some joints popping. 

“I must say that I do look forward to riding every day! These cold mountain nights do no good for my old elbows!”

Keith bit the inside of his cheek and tried to dust away the last tendrils of his thoughts. 

**_You should speak with him._ ** Aka left the deer’s carcass and gave her wings a cursory check.

Keith frowned, letting his mind wander over the first night’s discussion over the fire. Aka snorted, smoke puffing from her nostrils.

**_Don’t be dense. You know what I mean._ **

Keith did. But every thought, every question he had seemed all at once too small and too important for what was at hand. 

“You’re particularly quiet this morning.” Coran said.

“Just thinking.”

“Ah. Don’t worry, my boy, I’m fairly positive that there’ll be no Galran troops for us to encounter this far North. But, then, that’s what the last scouting party thought. But I do believe the odds way a bit more in our favor.” Coran’s hand thumped down onto his shoulder. “Oop! Look lively! We’re off!”

Shiro had directed Kuro toward the edge of the field at a brisk walk before the great dragon launched himself skyward. His wings caught at the air, billowing with a noise like thunder as he climbed. 

Keith urged Aka to follow, bending low over her back as she darted for the treeline before rearing up and flaring her wings. 

The trees spiraled beneath them as Aka climbed. She searched out the thermal currents and used them to buoy herself when she could. The field disappeared behind them, vanishing into the trees as quickly as it had appeared the night before. 

At a comfortable altitude, Shiro and Kuro levelled out. 

Kuro’s wings flapped in a hypnotizing wave; one set peaking as the other descended. His frilled and spiked tail acted like a ship’s rudder. Even in the dawning light, no light reflected off the dragon. It all seemed to get absorbed between his scales. 

**_Do you think Kuro is better than me?_ ** Aka’s voice was a muffled hiss in Keith’s mind.

He balked at the thought. How had she gotten that idea?

Aka’s disdain was immediate. She gathered his thoughts from the past few moments and pressed them at him sharply.

**_Well?_ **

“I don’t think that, Aka. I have nothing else to look at up here besides-”

**_There are things to look at as far as your eyes can see._ **

“You know what I meant.”

**_I’m afraid I don’t. But then, your kind do have atrocious vision._ **

Keith ground his teeth together and gave in. He let his gaze roam over the sea of trees. Bold spots of gold and red speckled the mountainside. The color stood out among the endless expanse of evergreens. 

A flock of carrion crows unfurled from a stand of trees like a plume of smoke from a fire. They split, disappearing among the leaves again. 

The remains of a smattering of cottages peered up between the cleared branches of some maples. Doors hung wide like empty mouths. 

A road, grown-over and still muddy from the dew, twisted and turned beneath them.

There were bears and deer and a bobcat. A horse with a piebald pattern ran from their shadows. Keith could’ve sworn he saw a bridle hanging from its mouth and a blanket clinging to its back. 

The crumbling remains of the outpost loomed just ahead. Craggy edges of smashed stone had been blackened by thick layers of soot and smoke that no rain could wash away. Black birds circled it before settling among the nooks. Smoke cured upward…

Keith blinked. Smoke. Not even dragonfire smoldered for more than a fortnight if left unattended.

He called out, voice barely carrying over the wind. The sound was snatched away. 

“Keith, what in Good Zenythlan’s name are you shouting for?” Coran demanded.

“There’s smoke over those ruins. It’s been too long for it to be caused by dragonfire. Which means-”

There was a cracking noise that echoed sharply over the trees. A cloud of shining silver flew over the treetops and sailed past the tips of Kuro’s wing.

Shiro called out, banking to keep out of the way. 

The snapping sound issued again in sharp succession. Keith jerked his body to the side as he urged Aka into a roll to avoid the net of razored barbs. 

Shiro and Kuro weren’t as agile as they were, though. They couldn’t keep the game of dodge up for much longer. 

“Aka, let’s say ‘hello’.” Keith pressed himself to her back. “Coran, you might want to hold on.”

“This may not be  _ wiiiiiiiiseeee _ -” Coran’s words were snatched away by the wind of their sudden descent. His fingers scrabbled for purchase on Keith’s shirt and Aka’s scales.

Trees thinned and gave to a large clearing. The ruins of Puig towered over a thriving village filled with decidedly hostile rebels. There no Galran banners, no armor or troops. Just a rag-tag army of frightened, but determined, refugees and rebels.

“Set down behind the net-bows.” Keith called to Aka. 

**_We’ll be surrounded!_ **

“That’s the plan.”

“Keith, maybe that’s not the best idea-” Coran yelped as Aka cut out of her dive with a sharp flare of her wings and set down roughly.

Bows and crossbows loaded with lead shot levelled at them from all sides. Keith lifted his empty hands. 

“Halt!”

“We are not Galrans. We don’t want to hurt you.” 

The ground shuddered as Kuro landed behind them. 

“Yet you come on their war-beasts. We aren’t foolish enough for that yarn.” 

The voice was...familiar, tugging at the strings of Keith’s memories tenaciously. He studied the battalion of rebels, trying to see past the raised hoods and knotted scarves. 

“It’s true. None of us are Galran. We come from over the Imbrium, a village named Garrison. Let us dismount and we’ll explain.”

“Garrison?” 

There. Keith squinted at the smaller man. One of his legs bowed awkwardly. His eyes glinted a shrewd brown behind thick lenses. A tuft of vibrant copper hair poked from beneath his hood.

“Matthew Holt?” Keith blinked.

“Matt?” Shiro’s exclamation intertwined with his.

“Matt?” Pidge’s voice slid through the air like a needle past cloth, a shaky stitch that strengthened into a bold line as she scampered past Hunk and evaded Lance’s grab. 

She half-tumbled, half-climbed down Kuro’s leg before running for the shrouded man. Shiro fumbled with the buckles at his legs even as Lance tripped after her. She ignored their yells and collided with a couple of armed rebels who held her back.

“Matt? Matt! Matt?!” Pidge’s sharp little knuckles smacked into one rebel’s nose. Bone cracked and blood welled. Still, they caught at her arms.

Lance caught up, wrapping one arm around her waist in an attempt to pull her back to the dragons. She nearly caught his jaw with her elbow.

“Stop.” The man’s voice cut through the commotion. “Let her go. All of you.”

Pidge shrugged their arms off violently and righted her cloak and goggles. 

The man let his hood fall back as he pulled the scarf from his face. Red scruff speckled his cheeks and jaw in sporadic patches. There was a scar that rode the bottom of his chin that hadn’t been there the last Keith had seen.

Matt’s face split into a crooked smile. “At ease, men. Katie. You’ve gotten big.”

Pidge shoved past the rebels and tackled her brother. 

“You shithead! You made me worry so much and you just on the other side of this fucking mountain-”

“Did you become a sea-farer’s apprentice while I was gone? Such language!”

“Shut the  _ fuck _ up.” Pidge muttered distinctly into Matt’s chest.

“Alright, alright.” Matt cleared his own throat loudly and locked eyes with Keith.

“Kogane. I can’t say that it’s a surprise. Though, the dragons are. Who-” Matt shaded his eyes against the strengthening morning sun and squinted at Kuro. His hand dropped limply to his side as he gaped. “Shirogane?”

Shiro jogged over, finally freed from the saddle’s straps. “In the flesh. Or, well, most of it.”

Pidge refused to loosen her hold on her brother, so Shiro clapped his hand over Matt’s shoulder.

“Good gods. Please, follow me. All of you. We have a lot to discuss.” Matt ushered them toward the village, one arm still wrapped around his sister’s shoulders. 


	10. Chapter 10

They talked late into the afternoon.

The sun climbed high into the sky. Rebels and refugees alike went about their business; leading cattle to water and trough and tending field. Weapons were forged, clean, honed. The din of all that permeated the air like cacaphonic music. 

Matt had lead them to a large, ramshackle lodge after their lukewarm welcoming. 

Keith had freed Aka from the packs and coaxed a promise of behavior from her before following the rest of the group inside.

“Where’s dad?” Pidge had asked the question with such earnest hope. 

Matt’s face had darkened and that had been the answer she feared most. Commander Holt had died shortly after their workforce’s rebellion last autumn. Pidge had bitten back her tears and nodded resolutely.

Allura and Coran shared the Council’s commands and their meager knowledge of supposed Galran attacks on Garrison. Iverson had always been eager to cry wolf, even if the only evidence was a cat’s whisker, Coran chuckled. 

Shiro briefly spoke about his own experiences. Keith followed with his own small recounting of how he’d come across Aka. 

At noon, a young woman with thick braids of yellow gold and eyes the color of wild violets brought in an offering of bread, cheese, and stewed meats. Keith hadn’t noticed or cared about the colors of her eyes and hair all that until Lance refused to stop waxing poetic about her. 

They spoke on well past that, over the rinds of cheese and the crusts of bread. 

Keith stirred the last bit of stew around his bowl with his bread. He watched the brown mush web its way between the nooks and crannies as he ignored the drone of Coran’s tale about some ridiculous claim Iverson had once made. 

Aka slid against his mind, pressing an image of a field of trodden-down grass and soot-stained stone into his thoughts.

**_It reeks of dragon here. Your friend is not telling you something._ **

Keith cleared his throat and pushed his bowl aside. “Aka says that the paddock smells like dragons.”

Matt blinked once before a tiny smile lifted the edge of his mouth.

“Your dragon wouldn’t be wrong.” Matt leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Our rebelling forces have been bolstered. Allura, Coran, tell me, have either of you ever heard of the Blades of Marmora?”

There was a heavy beat. Allura’s fingers abruptly stilled atop the table. Carefully, she drew them back and toyed with the waist of her tunic.

“I’m afraid I haven’t, no. But Coran has been long enough to the world that he might.”

Matt turned his gaze to the moustached man. 

**_Keith-_** Keith brushed Aka away, intent on hearing Coran’s words to listen.

Coran cleared his throat. “I may be older than a triple-cusp of wally-wobbits, but I haven’t heard everything there is to be heard. Maybe you should enlighten us, young mister Holt.”

“Hm.” Matt sat back in his chair. “Well. They say that the Blade of Marmora consisted of the greatest Riders the Galran empire ever had. They were advisors and generals, teachers and breeders. They helped guide the hand of the King until one of their own rose up and struck them down. They say only a handful survived and those that did swore to rebalance the empire on pain of death.”

**_Keith-_ ** Aka tried to push through his thoughts. He pressed back.

Allura had seemingly regained her composure. “And who is this ‘ _ they _ ’ you refer so loosely to, mister Holt?”

“Why, the Blade of Marmora, themself.”

**_Keith!_ ** Aka’s voice screeched through his mind, demanding to be heard.  **_Dragons!_ **

The sound of wingbeats mixed with that of the oncoming storm. The ground trembled under clawed feet. Chair-legs scraped against gritty wood. The lodge’s door flung wide, protesting with a loud squeak. Then, it was like a log jam at the mill. 

Keith stopped just short of smacking into Shiro’s back. 

Shiro had shaved on the first morning. He’d lathered his face with soap-root and water from the skins and borrowed Keith’s knife. Without the shadow, he looked younger. The bruises on his cheek had faded to yellow. The collar of his shirt was skewed a bit, probably from the tension of the knot beneath his arm. Shiro’s pulse fluttered beneath the corner of his jaw and Keith wondered dimly if stubble would prick his lips if he pressed them there.

Shiro glanced down and offered him a small but confused smile. 

Keith shook himself inwardly and turned his gaze out the door. Or, at least, to what had blocked the door.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure dressed in tight-fitting clothes and tall boots loomed over them. His skin was a pale violet color that bore darker markings around his eyes and cheeks. His eyes were an eerie pupiless yellow. Silvery-violet hair was plaited neatly away from his face and down his back. Slender scars arced down from beneath his hairline.

“Commander Holt,” The Galran’s voice was deep and grated like Keith had drug his nails over stone. “I see you have visitors.”

Shiro had gone stiff at Keith’s side. Minute tremors wound their way through his body and made the loose material beneath his knotted sleeve tremble. 

“Ulaz.” Matt nodded respectfully. “These people are friends, family, and allies from Garrison.”

“I’m curious as to how two villagers over the Imbrium garnered dragons.” Ulaz’s gaze swept over them, catching on Keith and lingering on Shiro. “You.”

Shiro’s spine straightened abruptly, even as sweat darkened the hair at his nape. The muscles in his jaw ticced before he seemingly schooled himself.

Those unblinking yellow eyes narrowed. “Soldier 117-9875. I remember you. You helped stoke the rebellion in Thayserix. Freed thirty dragons.”

Keith blinked.  _ Thirty dragons _ ? Shiro had said it was only a handful…

“You- You were the one who called for Kuro. You strapped me into the saddle-”

“You  _ were _ working with the Galra.” Lance hissed disbelievingly. 

“I didn’t. Not willingly.” Shiro studied the Galran. “Why did you help me?”

“Because we share a common goal, the defeat of Zarkon.”

“Defeat Zarkon?” Allura’s words were a frost of disbelief. They crept over Keith’s shoulders and settled cold against the back of his neck. “His reign has spanned deca-phoebs and all of the known lands. No country, no land, no navy, or army has ever succeeded in any more than wounding him. And you think a small battalion of barely-trained rebels and turncoat Galran Riders can defeat him?”

Ulaz’s head turned, eyes pinning on Allura. He paused, lips parted in silence as his pointed ears flicked. 

“Lady Allura. More surprising than your presence is that your words seem so similar to the empire’s. Have you abandoned your father’s legacy?”

_ Lady? Legacy? _ Keith frowned as he glanced around the group.

Shiro still stood too tense, his shoulders squared and back rammed straight. The nervous tremor had vanished, but his eyes still refused to budge from Ulaz.

Hunk and Lance shared a look that was steeped in suspicion. 

Pidge’s gaze was intent on the Council-woman, her brow furrowed as gears and cogs whirred behind her goggles.

“Any legacy my father deemed to leave behind died with our people. I’ve seen too many people and lands fall thinking they could stand alone against Zarkon.”

“You are right.” Ulaz dipped his head. “No one land can stand against Zarkon and his armies.”

“Together, we harbor a chance.” Matt finished. “Our soldiers are a formidable force. And we trust one another implicitly. Without trust, an army crumbles. So,  _ Lady _ Allura, what is the truth you’ve hidden?”

Allura stiffened under the onslaught of gazes. She released a heavy, trembling breath and looked to Coran. The moustached man nodded reassuringly.

“Before any of you were even dreamt of, there was a land called Altea. It laid far beyond the northern reaches and at the very edge of the known map. We were a studious, peaceful people. Our warriors were Riders trained from birth. Both dragon and Rider bonded so strongly, it was said that their souls joined. People from the maps over travelled to Altea; for dragons of their own, for the dragons’ shed for armor, for the tomes and lessons of the Riders...Centurons passed. A Galran soldier entered Altea in search of his own dragon. He was young and hungry for the prowess and power bearing the title of ‘Rider’ would surely bring. He met dragon after dragon, hatchling after hatchling. None chose him. Filled with fury, some say that he stole into the forbidden tomes of the Riders and bound a dragon to him with dark magic. Others say that only the sickliest dragon took to him and they fed off each other’s twisted minds. No matter the beginning, the end was the same. The Galran Rider became stronger than could have been ever imagined. He garnered his own following, one that spread its dark deeds like a snake does poison. In a night of fire, he made a bid for the crown and when my father defeated him, he swore vengeance. A deca-phoeb passed and the Galran Rider returned. We battled for three long, bloody days and nights. Eight Riders were dispatched to warn the other lands. Seven fell with their dragons. My dragon passed from her wounds before we could cross the Imbrium. Coran and I made the crossing and arrived in Garrison; weary, hungry, and grieving. The Council accepted us upon hearing our testimony and swore us into secrecy, lest we jeopardize the safety of the people of Garrison by inciting rebellious thoughts. Coran and I, we never thought that...It’s difficult to believe that such a force has been gathered. In the dark corners of the lodge, we whispered about it but never dared dream of it.”

“And yet,” Coran’s smile trembled a bit beneath his moustache.

“And yet,” Allura agreed. “Here we are, the last Alteans...Ready to plunge headlong into battle again.”


	11. Chapter 11

**_I would kill for solitude._ **

Aka’s presence in Keith’s mind writhed irritably. 

**_If these hatchlings do not leave me be, I_ ** **will** **_eat them._ **

Keith bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his amusement from their link. He peered through the oil-skinned window, watching the pony-sized dragons nip and prance around and between Aka’s paws. Occasionally she’d swipe out, sending a fledgling toppling head-over-tail if they became too confident in their play. It was a harmless little motion that titillated the hatchlings instead of deterring them.

**_I can hear you laughing and I’ll eat you, too._ **

Keith choked on a laugh.

“Will we get dragons of our own?” Lance said, clearly eager to throw the door wide and jump into the sky. 

Ulaz lifted a shoulder. “A small fraction of them have claimed Riders. It is their choice to make. But, you may walk among them and make yourselves known.”

Lance’s chair toppled over his haste to reach the door. Hunk and Pidge weren’t far behind. 

“Stay out from underfoot! Don’t touch without express permission!” Coran darted after them, cursing as his knees popped. “Watch the hindquarters!”

Allura shook her head fondly and sighed. 

“You, too, are free to chance a meeting, Lady.” Ulaz waved a hand to the sea of flashing scales and rustling wings beyond the lodge’s door.

“Thank you, but no.” Allura shook her head again. “I could never bond with any but Bikaina.”

Ulaz acquiesced with a respectful nod before turning to Keith. Those eerie gold eyes seemed to see past his skin and into the very marrow of his bones. 

“The young red Fury is yours?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Interesting. How did your bonding come about?”

Keith quickly recounted his encounter with Aka, fighting the urge to squirm under the Galran’s gaze. 

“The knife you carry,” Ulaz flicked a finger at the sheath around Keith’s thigh beneath the table. “An heirloom or the sum of a trade? Or perhaps you gained it through more nefarious means-”

“I’m not a thief.” 

“There is a marking beneath the hilt. It would remarkably resemble the one all Garlran Riders bear upon their weapons.” Ulaz pulled a small knife from his boot, one claw tapping against the familiar ragged edges of the etching there.

Ulaz glanced at Shiro. “Is your friend a thief?”

Shiro slowly but resolutely shook his head. “No, but-”

“If he is not a thief then he is one of the Galran people, a descendant of a Rider.”

“Keith’s not Galra.” Shiro said it with such certainty. 

“Furys have only ever been bonded to the members of the Blade of Marmora. The knife can be denied but the bond cannot.”

Cold clawed in Keith’s belly, digging deep furrows and breathing frost into his throat. It took everything he had to break the ice freezing his limbs.

The wooden legs of his chair scraped hollowly over the dirty floor. His knee caught the seat and knocked the chair into the table. The door swung violently beneath his hand, slamming against the frame with a loud crack. 

He ignored the dancing sea of brilliant scales and curious snouts that bumped against his legs and arms. 

Aka looked up at his approach, one paw pinning a fledgling down playfully. Her mind brushed against his, the bright colors of her thoughts darkening as she sifted through his memory. 

**_Keith, are you-_ **

He shook his head sharply, scaling her side and settling between her spines. Her wings flared wide and then the world spiraled away. 

Keith closed his eyes as they climbed past the stormclouds. Rain soaked through his shirt and trousers, clinging to his skin in frigid sheets. Flashes of lightning seared themselves into the backs of his eyes. 

_ Galran, Galran, Galran _ …

_ “The knife can be denied…” _

_ “I lost my hand. They lost their lives.” _

_ “Furys have only ever bonded with members of the Blade…” _

_ The bond cannot be denied… _

_ “Keith’s not Galra.” _

_ “A descendant of a Rider…” _

Dark boughs rose around them, shaking in the storm’s wind. Rain ran into his eyes and dripped off his chin. His hand curled tight around the hilt of the dagger, knuckles burning. The raggedy, hooked symbol seemed to mock him.

  
  


The storm passed.

Water dripped from the boughs overhead, pooling in the grooves Aka’s landing had made. In the distance, thunder rolled. It echoed through the valley, one peal picking up as the last petered out. 

Keith couldn’t make the Blade’s symbol out anymore. The last rays of light were muddied by the passing clouds and the thick canopy of evergreens. 

**_We should return before nightfall. I don’t relish the thought of being hooked by those metal ropes again._ **

Keith nodded and climbed back onto Aka. 

The flight was longer than he remembered. The last of the sunset tinted the storm clouds dull pink. Puig’s ruined towers rose high over the trees. Smoke curled from chimneys and campfires. The paddock to the west was filled with dragons settled in for the night. Riders leaned against the sides of some, blankets draped over their legs as the night chill set in. 

Kuro was a dark shadow at the very edge of the field. At Aka’s approach, his head lifted. His yellow eyes seemed to glow in the growing darkness as he growled softly.

Keith dismounted on numb legs. His mind writhed and bit at itself, hissing dissentiously. 

Aka nudged his back with her snout.  **_Go. Rest._ **

The lodge was empty. The table had been cleaned and cleared, the chairs righted. The last of the logs in the hearth settled with a pop. 

Keith dug through the packs he’d left by the door. He removed his sodden layers of clothing and, at a loss of what else to do, draped them over the backs of the chairs. 

His numbed fingers fumbled with the laces of his trousers and boots. 

Something knocked against the door of the lodge. It was a soft noise, barely carrying over the sounds of the fire in the hearth and the wind outside. 

Keith stood, half-dressed, and tried to peer through the oil-skinned window. There was no moon, no lamplight to see by save for the tinted light of a glowing stone. The greenish light cast up over broad shoulders and the sharp angle of a jaw. Knotted fabric drifted in the wind. 

Unbidden, Keith’s fingers tugged the door’s latch free. Hinges squeaked before the door groaned wide. 

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice was quiet and rough. 

There were shadows beneath his eyes and the green light made him appear older, more worn. He peered past Keith for a moment, brow furrowing. 

“Can I come in?”

Keith stepped aside, heart climbing in his throat. The door’s latch slid home with dull sound. He turned, scooping up a clean shirt from the packs and pulling it over his head. 

“We need to talk.” The stone’s light was extinguished as it slipped into Shiro’s pocket.

It took a moment for air to find Keith’s lungs. His fingers twitched, curling into fists at his sides. The blunt edges of his nails pressed against old scabs as he forced himself to speak.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You have to believe me, Shiro. I’m not-” Keith’s voice cracked and he fought to regain it. He took a stuttering breath but words refused to come.

Despite the ambient warmth of the lodge, cold washed over him in prickling waves. It needled his skin in the silence. 

_ Shiro, please believe me. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t leave me. Please don’t- _

“It doesn’t matter.” Shiro’s boots scuffed over the floor, the metal-tipped toes entering Keith’s vision. “Keith, please look at me.”

Keith lifted his head, dread eating at the pit of his stomach. 

“I know you. I know that you didn’t know. I know that-” Shiro reached out, his hand settling heavy and warm over Keith’s shoulder. “You may be part Galran but that’s not a...It shouldn’t be a warrant for exile.”

“Shiro, they took your hand.” Keith ignored the burning behind his eyes. “They- I-”

Shiro shook his head, mouth twisting up at one side in a half-smile. He stepped closer, palm curling higher. His thumb brushed past the collar of Keith’s shirt and smoothed against the skin there. 

“I know  _ you _ , Keith. You’re not the empire. You’re not the one who wielded the blade. You’re not one of  _ them _ . I know you.” Shiro stepped forward again, toes knocking against Keith’s boots.

“I know you.” Shiro’s fingers curled in the mess of Keith’s hair.

“I know you.” White hair tangled with black. Warm breath tickled Keith’s cheeks.

Shiro’s nose bumped his. This close, Keith could see every grey that made Shiro’s eyes so dark. There were lighter flecks near the center that were almost silver. His lashes were long and dark as they fluttered. 

Keith closed his eyes, heart flying behind his ribs. His blood rushed. It roared in his ears like the wind in flight. Heat seared through the ice around his limbs and burst brightly in his chest and belly. 

“I love you.”

Shiro’s lips pressed so carefully against his. It was gentle and light and over too quickly. 

Keith leaned forward, hands finally lifting. His fingers caught at the coarse material of Shiro’s shirt. 

He chased the words and Shiro’s lips with his own.


	12. Chapter 12

Autumn passed.

The Imbrium caught fire, trees burning bright gold and red. Refugees and rebels, alike, began preparing for the snow season. Lodges and tents were reinforced. Oil-skinned windows were sealed tight with boards. Cloaks and boots were treated with hardened waxes and oils to repel the cold rains and snow. Stores of grain and vegetables were checked and secured. 

The fledgling dragons romped through the first snowfall, little jaws snapping at flakes and wings fluttering at the cold. 

Ulaz and the Blades of Marmora lead the new Riders through a rigorous training regimen in the bitter cold. No amount of layers or weather-proofing could keep the tenacious claws of winter at bay in the sky. Their only saving grace was that of the heat of their dragons.

Matt and Allura watched from the ground, their words inaudible. They stayed on late into the night in the lodge with Ulaz and Coran. Lamplight flickered between the crack of the windows’ shutters as they murmured over maps and plans. 

Under the shivering hide and canvas of their tent, Keith and Shiro slept close. Sometimes they whispered on into the early dawn; of memories and dreams. Other times, they slept curled together, limbs tangled so tightly it wasn’t clear where one began and the other ended. 

The small group from Garrison quickly garnered a name for themselves among the Riders. 

Hunk had bonded with a great golden Behemoth with tusks the size of a sailing ship’s masts. 

An opalescent blue frilled dragon had taken to Lance. The pair of them were showy but inseparable.   

Pidge’s dragon was a lithe, sharp creature with two sets of eyes that never missed a thing. Its scales were dappled in a dizzying pattern of greens and blacks.

The five of them became a formidable squadron. 

Together, they worked well and overcame every drill and test Ulaz set before them. 

  
  
  


Winter melted into spring.

The snows vanished. Green crept back beneath the trees and climbed up to reach for the sky in new buds. Ice receded from the creeks and rivers, setting the water raging along the banks. Birds chirped in alarm as the fledgling dragons chased after them on shaky wings. Scouts and guards took their posts far into the forests again. 

Aka’s wings fully healed; only the thinnest webbing of scars stretched over her membranes. 

Leather was cut and sewn into armor and clothing for the Riders. Trousers lined with the stuff kept Keith’s thighs from any more scarring. Saddles were crafted for the Riders of the largest dragons. Buckles and bits were forged from whatever metal could be spared. 

Squadrons were sent out in search of allies and supplies. 

Those that remained behind trained endlessly, itching for the chance to act, to fight for real. 

  
  


**_The squadron is returning._ **

Aka’s nostrils flared as she banked into the wind. 

“They’ve only been gone three days.” Keith frowned. “It’s too soon.”

Kuro easily kept pace with Aka. His wings swirled through the mist beneath the clouds, trailing tendrils of the stuff down around them. His tail swung from side to side as Shiro searched for the approaching squadron.

“Unless they came across something.” Shiro called, still searching the cloudline.

**_There._ ** Aka directed Keith’s gaze to the South-Western sky

Keith’s gut rolled. Three dragons soared over the tree-tops. The fourth and fifth were absent, as were their Riders. 

“Shiro,” Keith called, pointing.

Even above him and through the mist, Keith saw Shiro pale. 

One dragon faltered in its flight, wings catching at nothing before its Rider bent low. It righted itself with a pained cry that echoed over the tops of the trees. 

Another Rider shouted out, lifting one hand. Her skin was streaked with blood and soot. The tracks of tears cut through the grime on her cheeks. Black feathers protruded from her shoulder and thigh. She called out again.

“ _ They’re coming! The Galrans are coming! _ ”


	13. Chapter 13

“We will _ not _ flee.” 

Allura’s voice was as sharp as the blade at her waist. Her eyes shone like ice, cold and unmoving.

Ulaz’s claws dug into the maps atop the table. His gold eyes narrowed dangerously.

“If we fight now and here, we’ll be cut down. Zarkon and his Drazil Corp have deca-phoebs of battles under their belts. We need more time. Our Riders are not ready.” His breath hissed as he exhaled. “Take them over the Imbrium. The Blade will hold Zarkon and his forces here-”

“For a mere matter of days.” Allura cut in. “The rest of us may make it through the passes safely but then what? We’ll have lead Zarkon to the stoop of Garrison. We’d be trapped between the sea and the range and we’d be slaughtered.”

Ulaz growled, clearly understanding but not agreeing. Matt rubbed a hand over his face before planting his palms atop the table.

“None of this is ideal. We all know that. But we don’t have the time to keep arguing. I say we make our stand here.”

A good deal of the heads in the room nodded. 

“What if we took the fight to them, instead?” Keith tightened his grip on his elbows as dozens of eyes turned his way. 

“What do you mean, Keith?” Matt asked. “An ambush? They know we’re here. There’ll be no surprise in that.”

“Not an ambush. An attack.” Keith felt Shiro’s hand brush his back reassuringly. “They’re too used to being the aggressive force. If we want to stand a chance, we need to attack before they can. Or we’ll be overrun.”

Matt’s brows knitted together and he motioned Keith forward.

“How would you suggest we do that?”

“Surround them.”

“Yes, but how?” Allura jabbed a finger at the maps. “Their forces are three times the size of ours.”

Shiro stepped forward, “You won’t need to completely surround them. If you position five groups here, here, here, here, and a diversion force at the front, it would be possible to shift the arms of the Drazil forward.”

“Leaving Zarkon’s rear and flanks unguarded.” Keith finished.

  
  


They left under the cover of nightfall.

The fires of Puig were banked to keep burning, smoke rising high above the old towers. Civilians began the journey over the Imbrium. 

They marched on into the night at a snail’s pace. Anything faster and the din would give them away. 

Keith’s hands twitched against Aka’s scales as his eyes darted at every sound.

As the first rays of light eked over the horizon, they fell into position.

The Drazil breached the line of the forest and chaos broke loose. 

Ulaz and the Blade of Marmora burst through the trees and soared overhead before dropping bales of soaked resin and hay into the soldier’s lines. Fire sparked and blazed, causing immediate confusion and panic.

Hunk’s yell was drowned out by his dragon’s bellowing roar as it swung its head through the Drazil’s front lines. Its tusks plowed troops and dragons aside and carried some into the air. 

Sweat ran into Keith’s eyes as he urged Aka into barrel roll. A volley of steel bolts sang past. 

Aka screeched as she flared her wings and flew over the offending ballistas. The archers weren’t quick enough to reload. 

Flames trailed in their wake as Aka climbed back into the sky for another pass. 

Beneath them, Pidge and Beryl darted. Beryl’s shrill screech caused the dragon they were tailing to falter, blood bubbling from its eardrums. Lance looped by, loosing arrow after arrow. The fletches peppered the chinks in the dragon’s armor and it hurtled earthward to crash into a stand of Drazil. 

Fire streamed by Keith’s shoulder. 

The heat burned past as Aka lurched into another roll. He pressed his knees in tight, holding firm as she looped. Their pursuer tried to deflect Keith’s blade too late. The Drazil toppled free of its dragon, dead before they hit the ground.

Kuro’s deafening roar made Keith’s ears ache. 

**_Keith!_ ** Aka pulled at his mind. 

“Shiro’s in trouble.”

**_We are, too._ **

Keith chanced a look over his shoulder. Hair stuck to his skin and blew into his eyes. 

Something bright flashed. He jerked to the side, pulling Aka into a sharp bank. The arrow whistled past, head grazing his cheek and fletches whipping after. 

“On your tail!” Pidge’s call was the only warning they had.

Keith lurched forward, clapping his palms over Aka’s ears and hunching his shoulders as best he could. 

Beryl’s screech jabbed like knives. Heat trickled from Keith’s ear and black webbed over his eyes. He felt Aka roll and held tight. Blue blurred by and there were two loud crashes far below.

Pidge’s voice sounded far away and tinny. 

**_Keith._ **

He shook his head hard. “I’m fine. Where’s Shiro?”

Kuro’s roar rang out again, making Keith’s head throb. He pushed past the pain and searched the roiling sky and field.

There was a loud impact. Dust flew up. Kuro rose from the cloud, wings flared wide and teeth bared. Pale fire lit at the back of his throat, enveloping the face of the bruise-colored dragon that had attacked him. 

The dragon screamed and lunged forward blindly as its Rider shouted. Black armor emblazoned with the Galran crown gleamed in the early sun. 

_ Zarkon _ .

**_They can’t hold alone against him._ ** Aka’s sides heaved. 

“Pidge!” Keith circled his hand over his head and pointed toward the warring dragons. 

She nodded, light shining off her goggles before flying after Lance and Ciel. 

The Drazil had begun to rally around their leader. Kuro’s tail lashed out, spines catching another dragon and sending it to the ground where it stayed. His claws caught on the edges of Zarkon’s dragon’s armor, squealing against the metal and digging past. 

The dragon reared, pushing Kuro away and exposing a flaw in its armor. There was a gap beneath its jaw and above its throat to allow for movement. 

Keith’s insides swooped.

Without his dragon, Zarkon would fall. 

“Aka, where’s Hunk?” 

Smoke and dust clouded the ground. Weapons flickered and flashed through it like lightning through clouds. Dragons swooped through, sometimes failing to return through the dust. Metal clashed, ringing out against the cries of dragons and soldiers alike. 

Beryl and Pidge blew past with Lance and Ciel hot on their tail. They circled Zarkon’s dragon, keeping just out of its reach and sparing no Drazil who attempted to aid their leader.

**_There._ ** Aka dived, tucking her wings in tight.

Gold scales gleamed through the haze. Tusks cast a dragon half the size of Kuro aside like it was nothing more than a chunk of flotsam. Huge paws crashed down, causing the ground to quake and roll. Ground soldiers fell only to be snatched up by dragons or lost underfoot.

“Hunk!” Keith shouted.

Hunk’s dark head lifted. One leather-clad arm moved in an arc, a sign of acknowledgement and questioning.

Keith pointed his fist in the direction he’d last seen Shiro and Kuro fighting Zarkon and made a decisive jabbing motion. 

Hunk wheeled his dragon around and gestured for Keith to guide him.

“Alright, Aka. We’ve got one chance.”

**_I won’t miss._ ** Her voice was a lethal hiss. 

Keith squinted against the grainy haze. Particles of dirt stung his skin. The smoke made his eyes burn and smart. He leaned low over Aka’s back, fingers tucking beneath her jaw. 

The earth-shaking footsteps of Hunk’s dragon followed close behind them. 

The shadowy shapes of the fallen dotted the ground. Dark patches bled beneath them, spreading in wide pools. Arrows studded the ground like some huge creature’s quills. Drazil and Galran standards lay shattered, torn, and dropped. The shadows of ground soldiers and dragons danced in the haze.

Kuro’s roar pitched into a cry. Shiro yelled.

Keith’s heart flew into his throat. 

Bruise-colored scales flickered into view mere yards away. 

Aka pulled up sharply. The tip of her tail whispered against gold scales. 

An avalanche of unstoppable bone and muscle and scale collided with sooty and gouged armor. 

Zarkon’s dragon screamed as it was carried into the haze by the blow. It struggled to regain its feet, one wing dangling uselessly at its side. 

Kuro lunged out of the smoke and fog, maw opened wide and teeth glinting. His jaws shut with a crack. 

The armored dragon listed and toppled, its Rider falling silent after the crash.

Kuro nosed along the ruined armor and rent purple scales before lifting his head and roaring to the sky.

  
  
  


The field still burned.

Mounds of ash sifted in the breeze of the valley, drifting on the wind like snow. Bits and blade of untarnished silver glinted in the setting sun. 

Canvas cracked in the wind. Tents had been pitched for the night. The dead had been honored with rites respective to their people before the last of the Riders flew over in salute. The flames had leapt high. Sparks danced before vanishing. 

Ulaz and the remaining members of the Blade of Marmora had departed for Daibazaal only hours ago. 

“With Zarkon defeated, our mission is just begun.” Ulaz had said, bundling the Galran empire’s helm and banner into a pack. “Our people face a time of great difficulty. There will be a struggle for power, undoubtedly. But the Blade of Marmora will not let another like Zarkon rule.”

He’d mounted his dragon and pressed his fist over his heart in salute. 

“It was an honor to fight at your sides. May we never meet on terms of war again.”

Then, they’d flown off into the Southern Horizon. 

Keith pulled his knife from its sheath at his thigh, thumb tracing the raggedy hook etched into the warm metal. 

The tent’s front flapped softly. A hand settled warm and gentle at his hip. 

Shiro’s thumb played with the hem of Keith’s shirt before he spoke.

“Maybe you should have gone with them.” Shiro nodded at the knife. “Maybe there were records of your parents in the Blade’s archives.”

Keith’s lips twisted up as he pushed the knife back into its sheath. 

He let out a heavy breath and watched the first stars begin to peek out of the darkening sky. Kuro and Aka curled around one another, grooming their wings.  

Shiro’s hair ruffled in the wind, white mixing with black. There was a fresh bruise blooming beneath his chin and a myriad of scrapes across the top of one cheek. The last rays of the sun made his eyes shine like polished silver.

Keith shook his head and reached out, fingertips nudging against the back of Shiro’s hand.

“What I want is here. Not in Daibazaal’s archives.” Keith pushed the words past the tightness in his throat. “That is, if you’ll have me.”

Shiro leaned close and Keith could feel the smile against his lips. It was a moment before they parted, grinning and giddy.

“I love you.” Keith whispered it into the curve of Shiro’s shoulder as they watched the sky turn red and violet. 

And when Shiro whispered it back, Keith swore that the stars had never shone brighter.


End file.
